Fic: "If You Call" (4/? J/Z AU; sequel to FaIC)
Part One | Part Two | Part Three
Jaina came alongside Zekk a good hour’s walk from the cantina. “He’s going to kill you,” she told Zekk, striding forward with him and refusing to meet his eyes. “And if he doesn’t, I’m tempted to do it for him. Have you completely lost your mind?”
“I’m playing mailboy, Jaina. It’s not like I’ve been put in charge of the psychopath’s ‘grace’ standards.”
Jaina grabbed Zekk’s hand, sharply pulling him to a halt. “Exactly what do you think you’ll be delivering-tax invoices?”
Zekk studied her worried expression, and the fatigue in her eyes. Outside of the bar, it was easier to see just how worn down she was. Not like Quatroc-not devastated and drained-but the mission’s toll was unmistakable. “Jaina, what exactly is going on? I’m getting involved, whether you want me to or not, but I can be more helpful-safer, even-if I have a clue.”
Jaina tried to stare him down for a moment, then sighed in apparent surrender. “Fine-but not in a crowd. And we have to take the long way-just in case. Follow me, and don’t fall behind.”
Without further warning, the Jedi led Zekk on an elaborate route, dodging between people and oncoming traffic, into shops and out back doors. It was a good half hour before they finally ducked into a small grease spoon near the slave quarters. Jaina pulled Zekk directly to a table at the back. When they sat down, he immediately noticed the broken light above them. Once his eyes adjusted, he could see well enough, but he knew Jaina had chosen it specifically.
“Have you eaten yet?” she asked, not looking at him.
“It’s past midnight.”
“I’m starving. I haven’t eaten since-I guess it’s yesterday morning, now.” Jaina rubbed her temples, perhaps trying to wake up.
“How are you not drunk off your rocker?”
Jaina waved at the serving droid, which bobbed its way to them. “No alcohol on the job. Just caffeine, and lots of it. Hey, I’ll have-” Jaina glanced at her menu, then back at the waiting droid. “The burger, fries, your daily soup, and a mug of caf. And water, as soon as you can. Zekk?”
He shook his head. “Nothing for me, thanks.” He waited until the droid had returned with Jaina’s drinks and left again, before he leaned forward. “So, what is Joolu’s boss running?”
Jaina started to reply, pressed her lips together to reconsider, then opened her mouth again “Joolu works for-a number of people, really, and we won’t catch half of them on this mission. But his boss is a man named Traest. He’s-” Jaina’s lips tightened. “He’s the one we’re after, this time.”
Zekk drummed his fingers on the table, noticing Jaina’s tight grip on her mug of caf. Her eyes flicked up to met his, but he sensed her withdrawal. “What’s happening?” he asked finally. “The people who are disappearing, what’s happening to them? Is it-a prejudice thing-I mean, hate crimes? Or…”
Jaina swallowed some of her caf; judging by her grimace, it was either too hot or too bitter. She cleared her throat. “Part of it is for a, um, a specific niche of the slave market-of Force sensitives-or people that they think are Force sensitive. As far as we can tell, that’s how it started. It isn’t just the Dustbowl, but it’s been more obvious there-and many of those involved are taking advantage of it as a meeting place. These are dangerous people, even for their sort-the kind of dangerous that doesn’t require subtlety, and they’re aware of it.”
The droid-waiter deposited a bowl of soup and an enormous burger in front of Jaina. “Anything else?” it asked. The droid was supposed to hover, but had long since degraded to pitching forward and dropping as its propulsion energy gave out and recuperated in fits.
Jaina indulged in a mechanic’s overview of the droid’s flaws, but shook her head. “We’re good, thanks.” Her mouth was already stuffed with a fry. Zekk noticed that she had actually managed to scrub most of the grease stains off her fingers, though her nails were still short and uneven. It was absurdly reassuring, given the distance in her manner, and the mischaracter of her appearance, that she had not managed to hide everything.
He let her finish her burger-which she did in several impossibly large and rapid bites-before he continued his interrogation. “You said they started with abducting people for slavery. Do you mean they’ve…changed their goals?”
“They’re expanding,” Jaina reluctantly answered. “Once word got out-and Force sensitives are a very small percentage of the population, I mean the ones who are obviously different and capable of other…abilities. They got creative. Traest has been seen with some particularly amoral geneticists. Judging by that, and some financial clues, and their broadened criteria-indiscriminate abductions-we have reason to believe that Traest is experimenting on the abductees. He’s trying-or his boss, who knows who thought it up-to…to make Force sensitives, I guess, or to alter or remove sensitivity once it’s there. As you can imagine, the Jedi have about five hundred objections to that, even after the issue of involuntary sentient experimentation.”
Jaina was staring at him, perhaps waiting for Zekk to recoil or realize what he had cavalierly assumed he could handle. He appreciated that she still had that much faith in him, but felt quite unable to do anything more than stare back at her. Jaina finally shook her head, and started working on her soup.
“Well.” Zekk cleared his throat, and rubbed his forehead. “You sure can pick ‘em, Jaina. I’ll give you that.”
Her head jerked up, and her eyes were stormy so that Zekk actually pushed back in his seat. “Meaning?”
He swallowed, then remembered who he was talking to, even after six months. “These missions, Jaina. Do you pick through the list for the most dangerous ones possible, or are you just that lucky?”
Jaina made a show of relaxing, but her armour remained at the ready. “I can get the job done. And-this one’s personal.”
“Care to explain?”
“If you feel like talking about why you just took off without a word.”
He started to say something, but subsided. Her temper rattled against its cage, only barely contained, and he knew as well as he had ever known Jaina that she was looking for someone to rip to shreds. He nodded, and resolved to let Peckhum talk the next time Zekk commed; the old spacer might have some insight, whether Zekk liked it or not.
“So there’s no chance of getting Traest’s boss?” he asked instead.
Jaina simmered. “Traest and his lackeys are plenty ambitious, I assure you. With any luck, we’ll be able to snare Traest’s mentor as well, but anything more would require every Jedi we have, a galaxy-wide operation, and the bulk of NR Intel as well. That’s another reason I’m on this mission-I’m familiar with their operations.” She smiled grimly. “Cruxx was one branch, and-others, too.” Her face was pinched in a way that said Quec’slig. “We’re working on it.”
Zekk nodded, turning it over in his mind.
Jaina sighed, and pushed her plate to the middle of the table. “Fries?” she offered.
He took one and chewed it while Jaina sipped her caf. “Peckhum told me you’ve been stopping by,” he ventured. “Helping him with the Lightning Rod, keeping an eye on him. Well,” he grinned at her, “he insists that he’s really keeping you glued together.”
Jaina’s expression relaxed slowly before she allowed a brief smile. “I knew how-that is, I knew that you’d worry about him.” The friendship looked strained, but more genuine than it had been since their argument. “And he’s a great guy-plus, the Rod is falling apart; I couldn’t resist.”
“Thank you.”
She paused, then dropped her gaze to her mug. “Well, if I’m going to shove you out of Coruscant in less than a week, I’d better be ready to help out.”
She wouldn’t give him a better window than that. “For what it’s worth,” he said, “I’m sorry. It wasn’t my intention to…”
Jaina’s shouldered tightened. “I waited at the Flash for almost an hour before your replacement broke the news. Mique was hiding in the corner, wouldn’t even look at me. I mean, kriff, you couldn’t even leave a note? No,” she said, raising a hand to ward him off. Her face was closed again. “I don’t want to hear it. I am-so pissed off at you, which I think I’m more than entitled to, and setting yourself up to get killed didn’t help your case. What were you thinking, volunteering to Joolu?”
“It’ll give you an in to sabotage one of their jobs, or at least get more information. I didn’t plan it, but I figured I owe you that much.”
“You don’t owe me anything,” Jaina fired back. “And don’t you have a job?”
“Raven’s stopped here for a bit to find a new job. I’ll be here at least another week, probably more.”
“Joolu will kill you if you back out. He’ll probably kill you even if you don’t.” Jaina sighed, and leaned back in her seat. “I wish you hadn’t agreed to it, Zekk. This mission is bad enough without you throwing yourself into the fray.”
He studied the shadows of her face, the whiteness of her knuckles, a yellowing bruise just unhidden on the side of her neck. Her lips were smudged darkly-her lipstick had smeared. It gutted him, in a breathless moment, just how deeply every bit of her called to every part of him; and his resolve grew. “I’m a part of it now,” he told her when he had regained some of his self-control, “so you can either ignore me, or let me help.”
Jaina took a deep breath, and finally-really-looked at him. “I sure can pick them,” he thought she muttered. Louder, she said, “I have to talk to my team. Meet me in the marketplace-the one I followed you to last time-tomorrow at noon.” She peered at her chrono. “Today, noon, I guess. Come alone, and let me approach you. I doubt Joolu will have you followed, but I’m not risking it. I’ve been on this mission for weeks, Zekk, not counting the pre-op work; you are not blowing my cover.”
“I’ve dealt with men like Joolu before, Jaina.”
“Well, be careful anyway,” she snapped. “If you get yourself killed, I will never forgive you, do you understand me? I’m not telling Peckhum that you stuck yourself in a bad mission, and underestimated the risks.”
Zekk rose, smiling despite himself. “Do you know, Jaina, I missed you, but I hadn’t even realized how much.”
Jaina wrapped her hands around her hot mug. She contemplated it for a moment, then lifted her eyes to his. “Well,” she said, “you always were slow.”
He could have almost-but he grinned to cover it up. “I’ll see you later, Jaina.”
“Don’t keep me waiting this time,” she told him. When he glanced back at her, she was drinking the last of her caf; the mug obscured her face. Nonetheless, her message was clear.
Zekk had his work cut out for him.
x-x-x
Part Five
Please R&R :D
Jaina came alongside Zekk a good hour’s walk from the cantina. “He’s going to kill you,” she told Zekk, striding forward with him and refusing to meet his eyes. “And if he doesn’t, I’m tempted to do it for him. Have you completely lost your mind?”
“I’m playing mailboy, Jaina. It’s not like I’ve been put in charge of the psychopath’s ‘grace’ standards.”
Jaina grabbed Zekk’s hand, sharply pulling him to a halt. “Exactly what do you think you’ll be delivering-tax invoices?”
Zekk studied her worried expression, and the fatigue in her eyes. Outside of the bar, it was easier to see just how worn down she was. Not like Quatroc-not devastated and drained-but the mission’s toll was unmistakable. “Jaina, what exactly is going on? I’m getting involved, whether you want me to or not, but I can be more helpful-safer, even-if I have a clue.”
Jaina tried to stare him down for a moment, then sighed in apparent surrender. “Fine-but not in a crowd. And we have to take the long way-just in case. Follow me, and don’t fall behind.”
Without further warning, the Jedi led Zekk on an elaborate route, dodging between people and oncoming traffic, into shops and out back doors. It was a good half hour before they finally ducked into a small grease spoon near the slave quarters. Jaina pulled Zekk directly to a table at the back. When they sat down, he immediately noticed the broken light above them. Once his eyes adjusted, he could see well enough, but he knew Jaina had chosen it specifically.
“Have you eaten yet?” she asked, not looking at him.
“It’s past midnight.”
“I’m starving. I haven’t eaten since-I guess it’s yesterday morning, now.” Jaina rubbed her temples, perhaps trying to wake up.
“How are you not drunk off your rocker?”
Jaina waved at the serving droid, which bobbed its way to them. “No alcohol on the job. Just caffeine, and lots of it. Hey, I’ll have-” Jaina glanced at her menu, then back at the waiting droid. “The burger, fries, your daily soup, and a mug of caf. And water, as soon as you can. Zekk?”
He shook his head. “Nothing for me, thanks.” He waited until the droid had returned with Jaina’s drinks and left again, before he leaned forward. “So, what is Joolu’s boss running?”
Jaina started to reply, pressed her lips together to reconsider, then opened her mouth again “Joolu works for-a number of people, really, and we won’t catch half of them on this mission. But his boss is a man named Traest. He’s-” Jaina’s lips tightened. “He’s the one we’re after, this time.”
Zekk drummed his fingers on the table, noticing Jaina’s tight grip on her mug of caf. Her eyes flicked up to met his, but he sensed her withdrawal. “What’s happening?” he asked finally. “The people who are disappearing, what’s happening to them? Is it-a prejudice thing-I mean, hate crimes? Or…”
Jaina swallowed some of her caf; judging by her grimace, it was either too hot or too bitter. She cleared her throat. “Part of it is for a, um, a specific niche of the slave market-of Force sensitives-or people that they think are Force sensitive. As far as we can tell, that’s how it started. It isn’t just the Dustbowl, but it’s been more obvious there-and many of those involved are taking advantage of it as a meeting place. These are dangerous people, even for their sort-the kind of dangerous that doesn’t require subtlety, and they’re aware of it.”
The droid-waiter deposited a bowl of soup and an enormous burger in front of Jaina. “Anything else?” it asked. The droid was supposed to hover, but had long since degraded to pitching forward and dropping as its propulsion energy gave out and recuperated in fits.
Jaina indulged in a mechanic’s overview of the droid’s flaws, but shook her head. “We’re good, thanks.” Her mouth was already stuffed with a fry. Zekk noticed that she had actually managed to scrub most of the grease stains off her fingers, though her nails were still short and uneven. It was absurdly reassuring, given the distance in her manner, and the mischaracter of her appearance, that she had not managed to hide everything.
He let her finish her burger-which she did in several impossibly large and rapid bites-before he continued his interrogation. “You said they started with abducting people for slavery. Do you mean they’ve…changed their goals?”
“They’re expanding,” Jaina reluctantly answered. “Once word got out-and Force sensitives are a very small percentage of the population, I mean the ones who are obviously different and capable of other…abilities. They got creative. Traest has been seen with some particularly amoral geneticists. Judging by that, and some financial clues, and their broadened criteria-indiscriminate abductions-we have reason to believe that Traest is experimenting on the abductees. He’s trying-or his boss, who knows who thought it up-to…to make Force sensitives, I guess, or to alter or remove sensitivity once it’s there. As you can imagine, the Jedi have about five hundred objections to that, even after the issue of involuntary sentient experimentation.”
Jaina was staring at him, perhaps waiting for Zekk to recoil or realize what he had cavalierly assumed he could handle. He appreciated that she still had that much faith in him, but felt quite unable to do anything more than stare back at her. Jaina finally shook her head, and started working on her soup.
“Well.” Zekk cleared his throat, and rubbed his forehead. “You sure can pick ‘em, Jaina. I’ll give you that.”
Her head jerked up, and her eyes were stormy so that Zekk actually pushed back in his seat. “Meaning?”
He swallowed, then remembered who he was talking to, even after six months. “These missions, Jaina. Do you pick through the list for the most dangerous ones possible, or are you just that lucky?”
Jaina made a show of relaxing, but her armour remained at the ready. “I can get the job done. And-this one’s personal.”
“Care to explain?”
“If you feel like talking about why you just took off without a word.”
He started to say something, but subsided. Her temper rattled against its cage, only barely contained, and he knew as well as he had ever known Jaina that she was looking for someone to rip to shreds. He nodded, and resolved to let Peckhum talk the next time Zekk commed; the old spacer might have some insight, whether Zekk liked it or not.
“So there’s no chance of getting Traest’s boss?” he asked instead.
Jaina simmered. “Traest and his lackeys are plenty ambitious, I assure you. With any luck, we’ll be able to snare Traest’s mentor as well, but anything more would require every Jedi we have, a galaxy-wide operation, and the bulk of NR Intel as well. That’s another reason I’m on this mission-I’m familiar with their operations.” She smiled grimly. “Cruxx was one branch, and-others, too.” Her face was pinched in a way that said Quec’slig. “We’re working on it.”
Zekk nodded, turning it over in his mind.
Jaina sighed, and pushed her plate to the middle of the table. “Fries?” she offered.
He took one and chewed it while Jaina sipped her caf. “Peckhum told me you’ve been stopping by,” he ventured. “Helping him with the Lightning Rod, keeping an eye on him. Well,” he grinned at her, “he insists that he’s really keeping you glued together.”
Jaina’s expression relaxed slowly before she allowed a brief smile. “I knew how-that is, I knew that you’d worry about him.” The friendship looked strained, but more genuine than it had been since their argument. “And he’s a great guy-plus, the Rod is falling apart; I couldn’t resist.”
“Thank you.”
She paused, then dropped her gaze to her mug. “Well, if I’m going to shove you out of Coruscant in less than a week, I’d better be ready to help out.”
She wouldn’t give him a better window than that. “For what it’s worth,” he said, “I’m sorry. It wasn’t my intention to…”
Jaina’s shouldered tightened. “I waited at the Flash for almost an hour before your replacement broke the news. Mique was hiding in the corner, wouldn’t even look at me. I mean, kriff, you couldn’t even leave a note? No,” she said, raising a hand to ward him off. Her face was closed again. “I don’t want to hear it. I am-so pissed off at you, which I think I’m more than entitled to, and setting yourself up to get killed didn’t help your case. What were you thinking, volunteering to Joolu?”
“It’ll give you an in to sabotage one of their jobs, or at least get more information. I didn’t plan it, but I figured I owe you that much.”
“You don’t owe me anything,” Jaina fired back. “And don’t you have a job?”
“Raven’s stopped here for a bit to find a new job. I’ll be here at least another week, probably more.”
“Joolu will kill you if you back out. He’ll probably kill you even if you don’t.” Jaina sighed, and leaned back in her seat. “I wish you hadn’t agreed to it, Zekk. This mission is bad enough without you throwing yourself into the fray.”
He studied the shadows of her face, the whiteness of her knuckles, a yellowing bruise just unhidden on the side of her neck. Her lips were smudged darkly-her lipstick had smeared. It gutted him, in a breathless moment, just how deeply every bit of her called to every part of him; and his resolve grew. “I’m a part of it now,” he told her when he had regained some of his self-control, “so you can either ignore me, or let me help.”
Jaina took a deep breath, and finally-really-looked at him. “I sure can pick them,” he thought she muttered. Louder, she said, “I have to talk to my team. Meet me in the marketplace-the one I followed you to last time-tomorrow at noon.” She peered at her chrono. “Today, noon, I guess. Come alone, and let me approach you. I doubt Joolu will have you followed, but I’m not risking it. I’ve been on this mission for weeks, Zekk, not counting the pre-op work; you are not blowing my cover.”
“I’ve dealt with men like Joolu before, Jaina.”
“Well, be careful anyway,” she snapped. “If you get yourself killed, I will never forgive you, do you understand me? I’m not telling Peckhum that you stuck yourself in a bad mission, and underestimated the risks.”
Zekk rose, smiling despite himself. “Do you know, Jaina, I missed you, but I hadn’t even realized how much.”
Jaina wrapped her hands around her hot mug. She contemplated it for a moment, then lifted her eyes to his. “Well,” she said, “you always were slow.”
He could have almost-but he grinned to cover it up. “I’ll see you later, Jaina.”
“Don’t keep me waiting this time,” she told him. When he glanced back at her, she was drinking the last of her caf; the mug obscured her face. Nonetheless, her message was clear.
Zekk had his work cut out for him.
x-x-x
Part Five
Please R&R :D