Niki (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
niki_chidon) wrote2008-02-14 05:41 am
niki_chidon) wrote2008-02-14 05:41 am
Entry tags:
Valentine's Day Special Part II
More V-Day goodies.
Title:Need
Author: Niki
Fandom: Gabriel Knight
Pairing: Gabriel Knight/Friedrich von Glower
Rating: R
Disclaimer: I'm not Jane Jensen. Obviously.
Summary: The beast within.
Need
- - - -
New Orleans had been easy.
When ever the mood struck him, he knew where to go to get what he needed. Always an endless supply of tourists who weren't afraid of the heavier stuff and were conveniently gone soon.
Rittersberg was pure torture. He couldn't even get laid not to mention what he needed the *other* days.
The days when the need for pain and pleasure fought for dominance. The *need*. To lose himself in it, to exist only in the physical. To mindelssly pound into a willing body until it faded. Until next time.
What he hadn't known, couldn't have known, was how good it would feel to be *fucked* when the need struck. The pleasure, the pain, the overwhelmingness of it all.
Friedrich.
When the need surfaced they had to leave the Schloss because they wouldn't be quiet. They'd run the woods in wolf shape. Hunt, kill, revel, and turn into their human forms and fuck like animals, as single-minded as the wolves. Kissing and biting and fucking and being fucked.
That, that was what the beast inside had always craved for. Sex and violence.
Now it had its release, and he could bury it for the rest of the time - be a hero, protect the innocents. Even from himself.
- - - - - - - - - -
Working Title: I Am You
Author: Niki
Fandom: Star Wars: Knights of the Old Republic
Genre: Slash
Pairings: Carth Onasi/Saul Karath, Revan/Malak, Carth/Revan
Rating: 16+
Summary: Slightly AU. Leviathan and then what
Disclaimer: I don't own the Star Wars universe, nor even the rights for the game. More's the pity, you'd get the sequel with lots of Carth if I did;)
Notes: I was planning another story, when Depeche Mode's "I Am You" started playing on my mp3 player. "Dark obsession in the name of love" and all that. It just screamed a twisted Malak/maleRevan relationship to me, and the initial idea grew into this. In the end this, too, is a love story, with a happy ending to boot. I'm a sucker for happy endings. Final pairing, surprise surprise, Carth/maleRevan.
Warnings: If homophobic Mandalorians, marital infidelity, male/male loving and/or slightly modified characters aren't your thing, turn back now instead of bitching about it afterwards. This is an adult story with adult themes, and our heroes do stuff you might not approve of. Begone if it bugs you. I'm serious.
~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~
Leviathan: Carth
To be tortured by someone you have loved, someone who has loved you - he couldn't imagine worse pain. The physical agony assaulting his every cell, and the even worse emotional pain of meeting the once familiar gaze now filled with sadistic pleasure and hatred. Added to that was the unbearable torture of having to watch him inflict pain on those Carth had learned to care about, to trust.
The respite he got when Saul concentrated on hurting Bastila to make Llehak speak did not really help. He had more time to observe the man he had once known. Bastila's screams hurt - to make those sounds come out of a Jedi... And every moment he feared the young man was going to break under the stress. He almost wished he would - to stop those horrible screams, to make the tortured look leave Llehak's eyes - to make Saul leave so that he could start forgetting the look in his eyes when he tortured them.
~*~
He could hear the sounds of the battle all around him but only had eyes for Saul himself. His moment of revenge was here at last, and nothing would take it from him. Not death, not mercy, not even Malak.
Suddenly he realised the sounds were almost gone, a lone soldier was shooting at him - as was Saul. He risked a glance and saw both Bastila and Llehak momentarily knocked out. He swore under his breath and quickly finished the last remaining guard. Then it was only him and Saul.
His ion blaster made short work of Saul's shield but his own kept him safe. So easy, in the end.
His final shot made the older man drop his blaster and fall to the floor in pain. He stalked closer, slowly. It was all over now. All he needed to do was to finish it. Finish him. He didn't really feel like he'd thought he would. He felt... empty.
He looked into those familiar eyes, heard the once beloved man gasping for breath, and raised his blaster, the one he'd carried with him for years, and - didn't feel anything.
Suddenly Llehak was there with Bastila, telling him he shouldn't give into anger. Torn, he met Llehak's eyes, recalling all the conversations they'd had about the subject. He wavered.
"Carth..." Saul's voice rasped from the floor, claiming his attention again. He crouched down next to him, knowing the older man would again make his decision for him. Should he repent... he would walk away. But if he was defiant to the end, he would die by his hand. That simple.
"Did you fall for him too, lover?" Saul whispered malignantly, and Carth knew it wasn't redemption he was after.
"Shut the fuck up," he replied, none too gently.
"And again without knowing the true nature of your..."
"Shut up!" he spat out, raising his blaster.
"You don't know who he is, do you? You have no idea..." Saul coughed, close to death now, "no idea you ended up following Revan after all!"
"What the hell are you talking about?"
"The Jedi took his mind but not his life, they took down Darth Revan and gave you Llehak KoOul," his voice was barely audible now but the sadistic pleasure Carth had noted earlier was firmly in place, and he died laughing.
No, he was lying, wasn't he? There was no reason... no way... he looked up from the now lifeless body of his former mentor and met Bastila's eyes. What he saw in them scared him no end. She... she knew.
"It's true then!" her eyes confirmed his worst fear. "No..." he gasped, his eyes shooting to look at the very confused Llehak.
"And... you knew," he turned back to Bastila, "You knew all along, of course you did..." he was so angry he could hardly see straight.
"Knew what? You're confusing me, Carth."
Carth ignored Llehak's comment completely. He couldn't look at him yet. Never would be good. He was too preoccupied with everything to oppose Bastila much when she decided that explanations should be kept for later. Made sense. They still needed Ll... Revan's help to get off the ship. The longer he was unaware of his past, the longer he would be useful.
Even more useful than Carth had expected - the ship seemed to be crawling with dark Jedi. But that would mean Malak was already... oh fuck.
His instinctive reaction to shoot had no effect on the figure blocking their way. His blaster flew from his hand without much attention from the Dark Lord. Revan's apprentice. The man only had eyes for his old master, even Bastila whom he'd been hunting for so restlessly was ignored.
"Hello, lover," his metallic voice drawled, and Carth could hear Bastila's gasp. It seemed this was something even she didn't know.
"What..."
"Guess I am not unforgettable, then - Revan."
~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~
Leviathan: Llehak
Petrified, Llehak could only stand still when Malak took the last step and pulled him close for an embrace.
"I'd kiss you - but you made sure I'll never kiss anyone again."
Instead, he placed his hand on Llehak's forehead and the confused man could feel him attacking his mind. Memories, Malak's, and... his own? But they were... Revan's...
Instinctively he drew on the Force and pushed Malak from him. Unprepared, the man flew five meters back, but the attack on his mind didn't end.
"Feel me in your mind, lover... ah, no, you always preferred me calling you 'master'. Feel it again - all that we shared!"
Llehak gasped, his body reacting to the rush of memories forced into his mind with lightening speed. He was achingly hard the second, then nearly weeping from pain the next.
"Stop!" he yelled. "I am not him! I am not Revan!"
"Well, I know one thing... you're not my master any more!" the other man shouted, and attacked him.
Assaulted by memories Llehak could hardly keep his defence up, he was drowning... and then Bastila was there, in his mind, by his side in the fight - pushing him out - yelling in his head: "You can stop him - permanently - but not here..."
"Bastila!" But he was beating a closed door, and Carth was pulling him away. The pain! He was holding his head with both his hands, and Carth was nearly carrying him out of the ship but when Llehak met his eyes they were filled with anger over his betrayal.
That was almost too much to bear in his present state. If Carth would hate him... If he withdrew his support...
When they reached the Ebon Hawk, Carth dumped him unceremoniously on the floor, and he stayed there, on his knees, head bent. "They're both in my head..." he muttered, hardly aware of the movement around him.
~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~
Ebon Hawk: Carth
"Whoa!" The ship was trembling. "Who's flying?" Carth inquired, looking around him.
"Jolee," Mission muttered, kneeling next to the shaking man on his knees. Carth didn't know what to call him even in his head. Well, first things first.
"No wonder he crashed on Kashyyyk. I'll take over the flying, Canderous, Juhani, get to the gun turrets, we need to shoot our way out!"
After he got the Hawk flying more smoothly, and they got clear away he set the ship on autopilot and returned to the area in the middle of the ship they had dubbed 'the living room'.
Llehak was still kneeling on the floor, almost sobbing. He looked up when Carth entered the room, as if sensing his presence.
"Will you tell them?" Llehak whispered, "or should I?"
"Tell us what?" Mission was frowning.
Carth looked at the kneeling man, and felt all his anger and feeling of betrayal drain out. This broken shell of a man had been betrayed, too, even worse than him.
"Why didn't they just let me die?" Llehak's voice was still so quiet Jolee's answering snort sounded uncommonly loud. "Jedi," he merely said, as if it explained all. Obviously he knew what they were talking about, Carth noted.
The others didn't and Llehak looked up, meeting Mission's confused gaze: "I'm Revan."
"What?!" came from three mouths - at least Carth assumed the rrrowr Zaalbar let out had the same meaning.
"We... we just found out," Carth explained, "When the Jedi defeated Darth Revan, his mind was... damaged. So they repaired it, and gave him a new identity."
"New name, new past..." Revan whispered, "and I have to tell you," he was grinning tiredly, "on the face of that history it confused the stuffing out of me to be noticing men the way I was..."
"Eww!"
"Not my type, Mandalorian."
"But Malak was..."
"Malak," he repeated, closing his eyes. "The universe was nearly destroyed... for love..."
Silence.
"We always... cared deeply for each other but the Jedi are not allowed to love. So we denied ourselves. Until... We left to help people, never doubt that, but once we realised we were just soldiers... Bonds between warriors have never been frowned on. We could be together. And we grew stronger for it. Our minds were linked - we could plan, communicate, keep in touch so much better... so much more efficient... We were unstoppable!
"So, naturally, we started to wonder what else the Council had been wrong about... and once you start falling you keep on falling. But the Dark side does not know love. It has passion, possession, power... What ended us? The first time I made him call me his master?
"His jaw... We did not kiss any more... Sex was all about power. And then I saw him kissing someone else..."
"I can guess where this is going."
"But, you see, I didn't do it then! I did not strike him down in passionate anger. He didn't even know I'd seen him. Or he didn't care. But Darth Revan did not share his toys. So I... I met him, later. I kissed him... and then I took my lightsaber..."
He was quiet for a long time, staring into the distance although Carth got the idea he didn't actually see the Hawk's interior.
"When my mind was damaged, the Bond was apparently destroyed... ripped apart... maybe the other bond with Bastila was born as a side-effect, I don't know. But now, meeting him... he somehow rekindled the link and... and was in my head again. But all this - I don't see it from *his* perspective, they are not *his* memories. They are... Revan's. They are mine..."
"But you're still not killing us, so I suppose they're just that - memories. Right?" Mission, loyal Mission, hadn't left his side for a second. Carth envied her that certainty.
Still, it wasn't Mission's eyes he was seeking but Carth's when he whispered, "I hope so."
"Let me get this straight," Canderous was talking now, "The warriors who defeated us were..." he looked too disgusted to get the words out.
Llehak got up, looking almost relieved at the distraction. He stalked closer to the Mandalorian and the small smile on his face wasn't very pleasant.
"What?" he purred, "Does it disturb you to think about it? That the man who defeated your people, the general you admired for kicking your ass liked taking it up the ass? Liked nothing better than locking himself up in his quarters with his second in command and fucking him senseless?"
He stopped, a few steps short of touching him. He was shorter and leaner than the other man, but no one could miss the quiet menace in his supposedly relaxed form. Carth found himself holding his breath.
"Get the picture? Need more help? Hard to fit together those two images, is it? All those years you wasted idolising someone you should despise? So disappointing to meet me in flesh? And know... and imagine..." he kept taunting the older man until the inevitable happened.
Revan dodged the first strike easily, and answered with a kick Canderous blocked. They were evenly matched in hand-to-hand combat but Carth, who had seen Llehak fight so often realised his style was slightly different now. He was even better than he had been. It seemed he had recovered even more than just random memories, and it scared him. If they were to continue with the fight, would he end up becoming Revan and killing Canderous? He was, after all, winning.
There was something desperate about him, his face a mask of bitter, angry determination, as he kept hitting the other man. He wasn't using the Force, at least not so as one would notice, but the ruthless strength in his attacks...
Canderous was down and Revan was pinning him to the floor with a knee on his neck. He raised his arm for one final blow... so slow and deliberate that Carth, who hadn't even realised he was going to act before he did, was able to stop him with a simple gesture of resting his palm on his bicep. Revan turned to look at him, Llehak in his eyes.
"Don't," Carth said, his voice almost unemotional in its calmness. "You're not angry at him. You're angry at Malak. You're angry at yourself. At Bastila, for sacrificing herself. At me for judging you - don't take it out on Canderous just because it is easiest."
With a sigh, Llehak got up, stumbling, obviously feeling his bruises now. Carth helped him out of the room without a word or look to anyone.
~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~
Ebon Hawk: Llehak
Suddenly he was so worn he could only stay up with Carth's help. He hurt, the last thing he had needed was another fight but... It had felt so good, so easy, to hide from it all in senseless violence. Was that the ease of the Dark side? Giving in to anger, desperation... Would he have stopped if Carth hadn't...
Carth. Carth, whose eyes had been so filled with rage and were so calm now. Whose touch was so gentle when helping him to lie down, but so ... so impersonal, like a nurse... like just a fellow soldier.
He was lying down on the bunk farthest from the door, head towards the wall, and Carth sat down on the floor against that wall, next to him. Close enough to touch, but he didn't. Heads level, but he didn't meet his eyes.
"I don't even know where to start," Llehak finally whispered, looking up. Carth turned his head silently but he couldn't read his expressionless face. "How to even begin to apologise... Malak destroyed your home world, and I... I made him what he is... I loved him..."
Humourless laugh stopped his train of thought.
"I may be a hypocrite but not that bad. You see... the man who also destroyed Telos - Saul Karath - I loved him."
"But you had a wife!" he couldn't help the shocked tone. He had recited that as a mantra in his head for so long, a line to keep himself from even thinking about suggesting something.
"And I loved her," Carth explained quietly, "I just loved him too. And he loved me, once. I was... very young in the beginning but even though he was my commanding officer... it worked. Then I met Morgana, and that was that. I had a life on Telos, with my wife and son, but... those long campaigns away from home... Occasionally, I would... we would... but he always knew I would go home to her," he paused, staring out of the door again as if seeing the past.
"When he tried to... recruit me, he accused me for not choosing an ideology over another but choosing her over him. Again. I... didn't see it that way, naturally. But whatever my choice meant, I ended up losing both of them."
"I..." What could he say to that?
"Yeah," the older man said, as if understanding everything he couldn't put into words.
"I didn't feel guilty, you know. The person I was at home and the person I was in space... felt so completely removed from each other. Only afterwards... when he wasn't worth any loyalty... I tell you, this sadistic monster he's become, I could never have foreseen. The torture..."
The memory of the interrogation made Llehak close his eyes. "I was... It was good he chose Bastila to... break me. Had it been you... I don't think I could've..."
His admission, and all that came with it, hung in the air around them. Llehak opened his eyes but didn't see a thing as he turned to stare at the wall, somehow knowing Carth was still staring out the door.
He had no idea how long they'd been silent, or how long it would have went on, had Mission not shown up at the door.
"Jolee wants to know if either one of you is in need of healing."
They finally met each other's eyes and burst out laughing. They were very much in need of healing, both of them, but not the kind Jolee was offering, and somehow that just had them laughing, long and hard.
Mission stared at them with an expression that could universally be translated as "men!"
She left, and their laughter died out. They were still not talking, and even the eye contact was severed again. Finally Llehak got up, gingerly.
Carth was also wincing because of his earlier injuries, and Llehak raised his hand, then hesitated. It was instinctive to heal his companions in the heat of the battle or afterwards but now... It felt like a violation.
"May I... heal your injuries?" he asked quietly.
Carth looked at him for a moment, with that unreadable expression of his, as if searching for something on his face. Then he nodded, and somehow Llehak got the feeling he was pleased he had asked and not assumed.
He had half expected the Force to feel different now that he knew his true identity but it answered to his call as easily as it always had, and he tried not to think too deeply on the intimacy of the act. When he was done channelling the healing energy he turned around, and started towards the door, then paused, and looked back briefly.
"What I said..." he began, then looked away, "please forget it."
Carth didn't say anything, so after a while he took a step towards the door only to be frozen again by a quiet "No" from behind him.
He turned to face the other man.
"I don't think I can. I... don't think I want to."
They stared at each other again in silence. Then Carth looked away, running a hand through his hair.
"We will have to talk, one day. Right now, I don't think either one of us is ready for it."
He walked past Llehak, disappearing into the direction of the cockpit.
Llehak only realised he was grinning madly at the wall when Mission called him freaky five minutes later, walking past him.
~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~
The Cockpit: Llehak
It was the ship's night, and everyone but Llehak was asleep. He had woken up after only few hours of rest and decided to join T3 in the cockpit duty. Even on autopilot someone needed to keep an eye on the controls, and the astrodroid was more than capable of doing it, but he was too afraid to sleep any more. What little sleep he'd had had been filled with dreams of the past. He couldn't help but feel Malak's influence.
He was pretty certain the other man couldn't actually read his mind, or even his present location... but he didn't really want to remember... Revan.
He was still tired, so he fell into a semi-meditation sitting on the co-pilot's chair, feet on the console. For a second it amused him to think about what Master Vrook would think of his pose, then he remembered the fate of Dantooine, and had to forcefully push the pain from his mind. It reminded him of Bastila, too.
He tried to reach her in his mind, to ascertain she was still alive and well. Alive, yes - in terrible pain. That was the impression he got before she closed the connection. Protecting him? Oh, Bast... He hadn't liked her at first - she wasn't easy to like. But he'd grown to regard her as... as a sister, almost.
He placed his feet on the floor again, resting his elbows on his knees, and hid his face in his hands.
Just so tired...
He remembered, just a couple of days ago, nodding off in 'the living room'. It had been Carth who had taken care of him.
"Come on, kid, bed."
"Kid!?" he spluttered, meeting the teasing gaze.
"Sometimes you appear about as old as the Twi'lek - but she'd get mad if I call *her* a kid," the other man explained, grinning openly.
Llehak responded by opening his eyes very wide and asking in a child-like voice, "but daddy, why is my sister blue?"
For a second he feared he'd gone too far but the glistening in Carth's eyes was humour, not tears.
"'Cos your mama was a tramp," he said dryly, and Mission's startled gasp transformed into laughter.
When Carth's eyes had looked at him with such anger he'd thought to never see the light of laughter in them again. That's why the gift of shared laughter had been so very precious to him. And Carth's acceptance of his admitted emotions... and the hint of a promise of... of what? Reciprocity? Hope was impossible to kill in the face of his words.
But had he meant them the way he had interpreted them? Or was he just playing for time, keeping him from being a nuisance... He couldn't. Not him. Not the honest, honourable... handsome... Oh, bugger. He groaned out loud. Do not go there.
He started when the door slid open.
"Oh, you," he muttered, battling down the joy he always felt when seeing the other man. Feeling almost as if his thoughts had summoned him there.
"Didn't mean to scare you. Can't sleep?" his voice was kind, as ever. He sat down on the pilot's chair everyone always left empty for him. Ebon Hawk only had one pilot, so everyone else spent their watches on the co-pilot's chair.
"No. Dreams... or maybe visions. I... keep seeing the past."
When Carth didn't seem troubled by the topic he elaborated.
"It's disturbing. I *see* the memories but don't really... don't connect with them. I am not him," he finished, whispering.
"If you were, I'd have taken that blaster shot to your head by now."
Llehak hoped that was humour in his voice.
"Too bad you didn't remember anything useful," Carth said, automatically checking their course. Had he remembered the location and purpose of the Star Forge, they would not need to visit Manaan.
"I think Malak was careful about what he let me see. And... some of that stuff must be destroyed permanently," he fell silent, going through the alien memories scattered around his brain.
"Bastila is alive," he said out of nowhere, and felt Carth's gaze on his face. "She's in pain..."
"But still alive," Carth reminded.
"I remember... on Taris, when we *finally* found her... Wasn't at all what I expected."
"No," Carth admitted, smiling. "None too appreciative of our efforts."
"Not quite what you'd expect a Jedi to be."
"Or then exactly what you'd expect," his voice was dry, and Llehak shot him a quick smile.
"Couldn't stand her," he then admitted.
"She makes it quite hard."
"On Dantooine she was a different person. I could even ask her help, without her rubbing my nose in it. And I needed her... It's weird, having someone else in your head. I learned to block her quite soon, of course... but now... when she is the one blocking me... I find myself missing her presence."
"What about... Malak?"
"He's still there as well. I cannot sever the connection, just merely shut him out. But occasionally, in my dreams... I'm sure it's him influencing them..."
"I can't even begin to imagine what it is like... Can't understand how you find strength to go on."
"Can't you?" he shot him a quick look from under his lashes.
"You can't mean..."
"No?" He knew there was too much in his voice, in his eyes - he buried his face in his hands again. "Sorry... Promised not to... Just so tired..."
He heard Carth get up and half-expected him to escape - but still wasn't really surprised when a gentle hand rested on his shoulder.
"Come on, kid, bed."
"Too afraid to sleep..." he mumbled, half-asleep on the chair already, so he didn't resist much when the older man helped him up, and steered him towards the crew quarters.
"Sometimes it strikes me - whom I've just called 'kid'," Carth said out of the blue.
"Don't feel like him, you know," Llehak muttered. "Not like the Saviour nor the Destroyer. More like... a kid."
~*~
The Cockpit: Llehak
Another sleepless night found Llehak again in the co-pilot's chair, staring at the stars. It did not surprise him, really, to hear the opening door, and the familiar steps stopping by the chair.
Carth looked pointedly at his feet on the console but he merely grinned unrepentantly.
"That your usual flight position?"
"Nah, my meditation pose."
"Oh yeah? That the Jedi standard?"
"Sure, Vandar uses it all the time."
"How do his feet reach the console?"
Llehak leaned closer, and whispered, as if revealing a state secret, "he's levitating."
He was rewarded by a warm chuckle from the older man.
"Did you sleep at all?"
"Very little. I won't be much help in Manaan if I can't get any rest."
"Still dreaming?"
"Every time I close my eyes."
"Maybe Jolee could do something..."
"I don't... I don't want anyone in else in my head. It's crowded as is," he grinned half-heartedly, then got up, and swayed on his feet. "I'll... I'll go try that sleeping thing again."
"Good idea. Want me to... That is... You think it would help not being alone?" his voice was hesitant, and Llehak wasn't sure what he was offering.
Well, what ever it was, he was taking it.
"Yes," he whispered, not looking at Carth.
He felt a warm hand on his shoulder through the thin material of his shirt. "Come on, kid."
They made their way to the crew quarters they shared with Canderous. The Mandalorian opened his eyes when sensing the movement but noting their presence non-threatening, fell back to the quiet, light sleep of a soldier. Llehak envied him that ability these days.
He sat down on his bunk to remove his boots. Too tired to bother with anything else, he lay down, fully clothed. Carth sat down next to him.
"You not tired?"
"Not really. I slept before coming to check on you."
The warmth he felt at that simple statement was incredible. Carth hadn't just chanced into the cockpit, he had expected to find Llehak there. He turned his head to meet the warm gaze and they got lost in each other's eyes for long time. Then a yawn forced him to move.
"Scoot," Carth commanded, and sat down on the bunk, guiding him to rest his head on his lap. He felt... safe. Warm. Protected. Loved... as he started to drift off, he heard Carth quietly humming something that could only be a lullaby.
~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~
The Crew Quarters: Carth
There was nothing sexual in holding the younger man, but he did not really feel very paternal either. Still, the restful expression on that recently so tortured-looking face brought memories of another young face he had loved... quite a lot younger, though.
He remembered holding his son in bed after nightmares, soothing the new-born in the middle of the night so that Morgana could get some sleep during his too short shore leaves. Remembered the feeling of all-encompassing, protective love that had filled him in those moments. Morgana had never made him feel protective.
For some reason, Llehak did, even though he was as much his equal as Morgana had been.
The words of the lullaby he was humming came to his head. Quite disturbing, actually. One of the many wartime lullabies. "World is broken and now, all in sorrow, wise men hang their heads... All the strength I need to find, I'll find inside your eyes... In your eyes..."
He felt the truth of the words. Dustil had been his reason to fight, to survive. He needed to save the galaxy so that his son could live in a better world. Now... He wanted Llehak to live. To survive. He needed to live to make sure Llehak lived, and was safe from the dark presence inside his own head.
He had not considered the possibility he would outlive Saul. Now... now he had a reason to look beyond simple revenge. He had strength to fight again.
Llehak had hinted that he was the reason he had strength to go on, to face all that the was thrown at him. Now Carth had to admit the reverse was true, as well. Llehak was his strength, his reason.
Probably not the wisest thing in the world, to fall for a Jedi. Especially not one who could become Sith at any moment.
But he feared it was already too late to do anything about it. He could love this man, should he let himself.
He stayed awake until the morning, holding Llehak, guarding his sleep, and keeping the nightmares at bay.
~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~
The Crew Quarters: Carth
He met Canderous's disgusted stare briefly as the other man woke up, then returned his attention to the younger man, whose head was resting on his thigh. Llehak had slept peacefully for hours, without nightmares. At least, not the violent kind that had him thrashing in his sleep.
What kind of nightmares would Revan have? What must he have seen and done?
...Revan. He tested the feel of the name on his tongue. Revan. Yes, he could love Revan. The thought should scare him. Mere idea of love should freak him out.
But falling had been easy. Hard part would be to actually trust the younger man with his emotions. He wasn't sure he could ever bring himself to risk that much of his self, ever again.
Should Llehak become Revan again... He had gone it through once, with Saul, and another time would surely kill him. If Revan didn't, first. Saul he could kill but Revan... He was no match for the Jedi.
Saul had hurt, and he had been obsessed with his grief, anger, and thirst for revenge. Saul had been his first love. But he had loved Morgana more, hadn't he? Or had he just grasped the opportunity to have children? A safe haven outside the Fleet?
He had felt he hadn't known love until holding his son for the first time, after all. And definitely, with her, he hadn't felt this overwhelming passion. This all-encompassing tenderness...
He smiled into the brown eyes slowly blinking open.
"I could... feel your presence, like a blanket, covering my thoughts... protecting me from the dreams," Llehak said quietly.
"I will always do anything in my power to protect you. I want you to know that. From nightmares, from Malak – from yourself if need be. I will be here for you."
It was a vow he intended to keep. He hadn't been able to save Morgana, or Dustil, but he would be damned if he'd lost Llehak.
The younger man rewarded his words with a smile that shone brighter than the twin suns of Tatooine.
"Uhh, we should get going," Carth got out, embarrassed by the amount of feeling in his open look.
Reluctantly, it seemed, Llehak got up and stretched his neck, then turned to walk out of the room.
Carth couldn't let him leave like that.
"I meant what I said," he said quietly. "We will talk... one day."
The smile was more restrained this time but filled with promise.
One day.
- - - - - - - - - - -
Working Title: Secure the Blessings
Author: Niki
Fandom: National Treasure
Pairing: Ben Gates/Ian Howe
Genre: (pre)slash
Rating: 13?
Disclaimer: It's a Disney movie, I believe.
Summary: AU version of the movie in the spirit of the best Disney movies – it has no bad guys.
Notes: This is the beginning of the story I intend to finish one day, the setting of the AU scene, so to say.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
Secure the Blessings
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
"--we mutually pledge to each other our Lives, our Fortunes and our sacred Honor."
from the Declaration of Independence
One might say I am obsessed. It's a family thing. For me it began in 1974 when my grandfather told me the family legend of a lost treasure and the clue we had been entrusted with. For my family it began in 1832 when my great-great-great-great-grandfather was told about "Charlotte", and the Templar treasure by Charles Carroll on the yard of the White House.
Boy's mind is easy to captivate with stories about lost treasures, and I developed an interest for history that amazed and frustrated my teachers because it overwhelmed me to the exclusion of other subjects.
A boy's mind... but I kept my interest to my manhood. Some people I alienated because of it. My father, my childhood friends, most girls I ever dated... but some I met and kept because of it.
I needed help with technology, and someone found me Riley. We... clicked. Maybe united in our respective geekiness, as he put it, I don't know. But he stayed.
Then there's Ian Howe. And he's something else entirely.
- - - - - - - - - - - -
I first met him in a suit, over a desk, as an imposing business man. I had heard he invested on unorthodox ventures, and mine was one if anything.
We continued our meeting over lunch (he paid, and I was in no position to say no to a free lunch, even had I not liked the man, which I did) and dinner and a nightcap. He seemed to actually be interested in what I explained, and I was never short of words when presented with a captive audience.
He did not treat me like a half-wit dreamer, and he asked intelligent questions. By the end of the lunch I knew I would be financed and by the end of the dinner we were so engrossed in our plans that I knew I had a partner, and not just a faceless financier.
I reminded him that it would be expensive, and the pay-off was uncertain. I felt idiotic telling a business man that but I didn't want him to... be disappointed. He asked me whether I played poker.
"You have to put money on the pot even before you see your cards. Then when you see them, it is up to you to decide whether they are good enough to invest more money in. Business is quite like poker in that sense. The trick is to know when to fold and when to bet."
So he paid his blind and gambled on me.
- - -
I've never had much friends. I never fitted in with the partying students. In the university it was easier to find people interested in the same things as me, but even there I failed to fit in. That obsession thing again.
Ian never got tired of listening to me go on for hours about some theory or interpretation. And he taught me to play poker. I wasn't very good at it. He taught me that it wasn't that much about bluffing as I had always thought but reading people. Learning to play their cards in stead of your own.
Maybe I should be concerned about my failure to read him. I seemed to be an open book to him. This worried me for reasons other than the game.
I never stayed long with the women I thought I loved. I'm not much into picking up people in bars but I am a man with man's needs. Occasionally, I notice men as well as women. Okay, a lot.
Being a history student this posed less problems to me as it might have to another teenager. With the examples from other times, other cultures, I could treat it in a larger context. Not that I wanted it to get out. I knew I would be an odd bird as it is because of my beliefs and theories about the Templars and their role in history, I did not want to give people extra ammunition.
Then Ian walked into my life. With his raggedly handsome looks and raw masculinity only barely hidden by the tailored suit... friendship wasn't the only thing in my mind. And if he could read me like a book, would he read my desire as well? Manly men such as him do not react well to geeks who fall for them.
I soon learned that he was more at home out of the suits, his longish hair released from its clasp, and in the company of his... assistants, who were what one might call 'common men' as opposed to the educated and polished air that he presented to the world. I could never quite understand where he got that wild bunch we travelled with on our escapades.
Until Charlotte.
- - -
The clue that had baffled my ancestors. The name. It was a ship, I was sure of it. And I knew where to find her.
It is amazing what money can get you. We had gear, transportation, and men used to hard dirty work. The men Ian was so at home with. The men we played poker with. Riley was there, too, but seldom joined in the game. He couldn't understand my willingness to be humiliated time after time, as he put it, and the fact that had we played for money I would have owed Ian my first-born child by the time we reached our destination.
I don't think Riley had slept well in the ship as he was being geekier than usual in the last part of our journey. I was just glad we didn't need to do it with dog sledges.
"Assuming Ben's theory's correct and my tracking model accurate we should be getting very close. But don't go by me, I broke a shoe lace this morning," Riley said.
I turned my head just to see Ian doing the same on other side of him, first staring at Riley incredulously, then meeting my eyes.
"It's... it's a bad omen," Riley explained, as if it was common knowledge.
"Shall we turn around and go home?" Ian asked, politely.
"Or we could pull over and just throw him out here," I suggested, and was rewarded by a beautiful grin from Ian.
Riley was not happy as we laughed. Poor Riley. We had become friends quickly but... it was just so much fun needling him.
Then all my thoughts were interrupted because we had reached the site.
- - -
She was there, and she was beautiful. I sat down with Ian, prior to going in, and thanked him for enabling this moment. Had I not met him two years before, had he not believed in the treasure – in me.... I don't think I'd ever have gotten that far.
He didn't share my view.
"You would have found it," he said with confidence. "That's why I didn't think it was as crazy an investment as everyone says."
"I'm just relieved I'm not as crazy as everyone says. Or said my dad was. Or my granddad. Or my great-granddad."
I admit to certain amount of giddiness at having been proven right, and Ian's indulgent smile at the face of it was beatific. He was glad that I was glad, he was happy that I was happy. He rejoiced on the fact I had be proven right, for its sake alone, not because of the pay-off somewhere in the future. At least that's what I believed but like I've said, I never could read him right when he had his game face on.
- - -
We found a pipe. Yes, the kind you smoke. It was filled with symbols and strange markings that proved to be writing. After a quick brainstorming session we came to the conclusion the new clues referred to the Declaration of Independence. Great. Hidden message in the original manuscript. With my reputation, I was sure they'd be *more* than happy to let me take a look.
"We have to arrange a way to examine it," Ian said, sitting down next to me.
"This is one of the most important documents in history. They're not just gonna let us waltz in there and run chemical tests on it," I reminded him.
"Then what do you propose we do?" He asked, and I snapped.
"I don't know!"
"We could borrow it," he suggested.
"Steal it?" I asked, and he just looked at me. "I don't think so."
"Ben... the treasure of the Knights Templar is the treasure of all treasures."
"Oh, I didn't know that. Really?" The sarcasm was dripping off my tongue as I took out my frustration and disappointment out on him.
"Look, Ben..." he said patiently, luckily not affected by my tone. "I understand your bitterness, I really do. You've spent your entire life searching for this treasure only to have the respected historical community treat you and your family with mockery and contempt. You should be able to rub this treasure in their arrogant faces, and I want you to have a chance to do that."
"How?"
"We all have our areas of expertise. You don't think mine are limited to writing cheques, do you?"
He let out a little awkward laugh. "In another life... I arranged a number of operations of... questionable legality."
I looked at him incredulously and Shaw moved closer to us, as a show of support to his boss. I got up, and took a few steps away from them, towards Riley.
"Ian... we can't steal the Declaration if Independence," I said, decisively.
"Borrow it," he corrected, smiling, and I just blinked.
"Have you any idea what you are saying! We can't do that!"
"So, what, after all these years you are willing to ignore the next clue, and go home to go on with your life? What happened to the man who was willing to do anything, face anyone, survive any amount of ridicule and hardships to reach his goal?"
"But... the Declaration! That's a symbol! A national treasure! Not to mention, it's illegal!"
"Correct me if I'm wrong but wasn't writing that document an act of treason against the British crown?"
I taught him that. One night when discussing history and fighting for what you believe in, I explained to him what those men risked, drafting that document. And now the bastard was using it against me.
"But that was for the greater good! They knew it was better for the people to be free from..."
"So, let's say you find out someone was about to steal the document, and the only way to protect it from these unscrupulous creatures was to steal it yourself before they could...?"
"Well, in that insane hypothetical situation, yes, I suppose I would do anything in my power to prevent them."
"Even though you would be breaking the law?"
"Well, I mean..."
"Yes or no?"
"Yes!"
Everyone else seemed content to follow our intense conversation from the background.
"So even your morality is flexible, depending on the proper motivation." There was no triumph in his voice, just enough feeling to force me think, actually *think* his words and the implication.
"So it would seem," I replied, "but as there is no such unscrupulous ploy in existence..."
"I could arrange for it," he said, grinning, then turned serious again. "Ask yourself this, then. Why are you searching this treasure? To prove your theory? To prove your grandfather right? For the monetary value of the treasure?"
"No!"
"No. You search it for the knowledge. For the unaccountable historical value it potentially possesses. Now you need to consider this. Is one historical document, valuable as it is to one nation as a symbol, more important, more valuable, than the chance of discovering something even more valuable to more nations."
"I..."
"Besides, it's not as if we have to decide this now. Who knows, maybe they will let us take a look."
"Yeah, right," I heard Riley mutter in the background but could only stare at my other friend.
"You were a criminal?"
- - - - - - - - - - - - -
Ian Howe. He really is something else.
We're back in the civilization in the form of a nice, warm hotel room and he's about to tell me about his past. For this discussion we have no witnesses.
He offers me a tumbler filled with soft brown liquor and I wonder at my own ease in his company. He could be telling me that he is a murderer for all I know and still I feel... safe.
"I don't want this to sound like a typical sob story," he begins, smiling self-deprecatingly, "but I never knew my parents. I met Shaw in the orphanage. I got adopted, he didn't. I went to the best schools, he learned in the streets. When we met again, I was in the position to hire him. I had discovered I quite liked money, and the security it offered, but was... frustrated with the more accepted ways of acquiring it. I soon realised I had certain aptitude to organising, and if the operations I organised were of questionable legality... well, I only took from people who could afford to lose money. Not from any idealistic reason but because it made sense from the business side. I set myself a goal, the amount of money I needed to get to be able to retire and pursue... other interests, more legal in nature. We reached that, left the old country behind, came to the States and started new lives."
He takes a sip of his glass, and turns to meet my eyes for the first time.
"I've never killed anyone," he finishes, "nor have I asked my men to do it. That is not how I operate."
"I believe you," I say, and I do.
"Thank you. I... find that matters."
"Not killing?"
"That too," he smiles, "but I meant... what you think of me."
Oh.
"Oh."
- - -
It doesn't really change anything. I always knew Ian had more to him than meets the eye. Well, now I know some of it, and... It causes mixed feelings, I have to admit. So he was a criminal and never punished for it. The money financing this operation was probably earned breaking the law. Not necessarily though, because he has obviously made it as a legit businessman this side of the pond.
He is also my friend, and the first person to really believe in me. So am I going to let him steal the Declaration of Independence for me? Or am I going to have him arrested for what he did in the past?
What is the right thing to do, and does it factor into my thinking that I'm pretty much falling in love with him? Can I really be objective about this?
Talking to Riley doesn't really help. He can't get over the whole stealing thing.
"We're going to steal the Declaration?" he shouts as I enter his hotel room.
"A little louder, there, Riley, I don't think they heard you in Alabama."
He just glares at me, and I shrug, grinning. "Borrow it."
"For the good cause. Yeah, right. But you better hope they'll let us take a look at it because stealing it will be impossible."
"So... you'd be willing to try? And go on working with Ian despite all this?"
His turn to shrug and I realise all this stuff about Ian's past is not that important to him. Well, as he does not harbour a major crush on the man maybe it makes it more simple. Then again, it does make me wonder about his morality.
"Hey, I go with your lead. If you trust him, I trust him. You knew him first."
Like I said. A big help.
- - -
I go back to Ian's room. He's still sipping his drink, as if waiting for my judgement.
"What if I said no?" I ask quietly.
He sighs. "I've put a lot of money into this project. I wouldn't like giving up when the obstacles are not insurmountable."
I swallow, fearing what comes next. Is this when he shows me his true colours and proves that I've never been able to read him right? Is this when he turns into a ruthless criminal?
"That said, I don't want to be your enemy," he says softly. "I could leave you behind and do this my way but I believe you would do everything in your power to stop me, and, who knows, you might succeed. You are one of the smartest people I have ever met, and your tenacity rivals my own. We could play cat and mouse all over the country, fighting for the treasure... and either one of us could win. Could be fun." He grins suddenly. "But I still think it would be more fun to do it together. But that requires your acceptance of my past, and, maybe, my methods."
"Have you..." I swallow, "Have you ever broken the law in this country?"
He meets my gaze evenly. "No."
"But you'd do it for this?"
"Yes."
"For me, or for the treasure?" I hear myself asking before I can stop myself, and he grins again.
"Maybe we'll find out."
I study his calm form on the sofa, and pace the room for a moment.
"Okay," I finally say, offering him my hand which he shakes solemnly.
"Partners," he says.
"Partners," I reply.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
Title:Need
Author: Niki
Fandom: Gabriel Knight
Pairing: Gabriel Knight/Friedrich von Glower
Rating: R
Disclaimer: I'm not Jane Jensen. Obviously.
Summary: The beast within.
Need
- - - -
New Orleans had been easy.
When ever the mood struck him, he knew where to go to get what he needed. Always an endless supply of tourists who weren't afraid of the heavier stuff and were conveniently gone soon.
Rittersberg was pure torture. He couldn't even get laid not to mention what he needed the *other* days.
The days when the need for pain and pleasure fought for dominance. The *need*. To lose himself in it, to exist only in the physical. To mindelssly pound into a willing body until it faded. Until next time.
What he hadn't known, couldn't have known, was how good it would feel to be *fucked* when the need struck. The pleasure, the pain, the overwhelmingness of it all.
Friedrich.
When the need surfaced they had to leave the Schloss because they wouldn't be quiet. They'd run the woods in wolf shape. Hunt, kill, revel, and turn into their human forms and fuck like animals, as single-minded as the wolves. Kissing and biting and fucking and being fucked.
That, that was what the beast inside had always craved for. Sex and violence.
Now it had its release, and he could bury it for the rest of the time - be a hero, protect the innocents. Even from himself.
- - - - - - - - - -
Working Title: I Am You
Author: Niki
Fandom: Star Wars: Knights of the Old Republic
Genre: Slash
Pairings: Carth Onasi/Saul Karath, Revan/Malak, Carth/Revan
Rating: 16+
Summary: Slightly AU. Leviathan and then what
Disclaimer: I don't own the Star Wars universe, nor even the rights for the game. More's the pity, you'd get the sequel with lots of Carth if I did;)
Notes: I was planning another story, when Depeche Mode's "I Am You" started playing on my mp3 player. "Dark obsession in the name of love" and all that. It just screamed a twisted Malak/maleRevan relationship to me, and the initial idea grew into this. In the end this, too, is a love story, with a happy ending to boot. I'm a sucker for happy endings. Final pairing, surprise surprise, Carth/maleRevan.
Warnings: If homophobic Mandalorians, marital infidelity, male/male loving and/or slightly modified characters aren't your thing, turn back now instead of bitching about it afterwards. This is an adult story with adult themes, and our heroes do stuff you might not approve of. Begone if it bugs you. I'm serious.
~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~
Leviathan: Carth
To be tortured by someone you have loved, someone who has loved you - he couldn't imagine worse pain. The physical agony assaulting his every cell, and the even worse emotional pain of meeting the once familiar gaze now filled with sadistic pleasure and hatred. Added to that was the unbearable torture of having to watch him inflict pain on those Carth had learned to care about, to trust.
The respite he got when Saul concentrated on hurting Bastila to make Llehak speak did not really help. He had more time to observe the man he had once known. Bastila's screams hurt - to make those sounds come out of a Jedi... And every moment he feared the young man was going to break under the stress. He almost wished he would - to stop those horrible screams, to make the tortured look leave Llehak's eyes - to make Saul leave so that he could start forgetting the look in his eyes when he tortured them.
~*~
He could hear the sounds of the battle all around him but only had eyes for Saul himself. His moment of revenge was here at last, and nothing would take it from him. Not death, not mercy, not even Malak.
Suddenly he realised the sounds were almost gone, a lone soldier was shooting at him - as was Saul. He risked a glance and saw both Bastila and Llehak momentarily knocked out. He swore under his breath and quickly finished the last remaining guard. Then it was only him and Saul.
His ion blaster made short work of Saul's shield but his own kept him safe. So easy, in the end.
His final shot made the older man drop his blaster and fall to the floor in pain. He stalked closer, slowly. It was all over now. All he needed to do was to finish it. Finish him. He didn't really feel like he'd thought he would. He felt... empty.
He looked into those familiar eyes, heard the once beloved man gasping for breath, and raised his blaster, the one he'd carried with him for years, and - didn't feel anything.
Suddenly Llehak was there with Bastila, telling him he shouldn't give into anger. Torn, he met Llehak's eyes, recalling all the conversations they'd had about the subject. He wavered.
"Carth..." Saul's voice rasped from the floor, claiming his attention again. He crouched down next to him, knowing the older man would again make his decision for him. Should he repent... he would walk away. But if he was defiant to the end, he would die by his hand. That simple.
"Did you fall for him too, lover?" Saul whispered malignantly, and Carth knew it wasn't redemption he was after.
"Shut the fuck up," he replied, none too gently.
"And again without knowing the true nature of your..."
"Shut up!" he spat out, raising his blaster.
"You don't know who he is, do you? You have no idea..." Saul coughed, close to death now, "no idea you ended up following Revan after all!"
"What the hell are you talking about?"
"The Jedi took his mind but not his life, they took down Darth Revan and gave you Llehak KoOul," his voice was barely audible now but the sadistic pleasure Carth had noted earlier was firmly in place, and he died laughing.
No, he was lying, wasn't he? There was no reason... no way... he looked up from the now lifeless body of his former mentor and met Bastila's eyes. What he saw in them scared him no end. She... she knew.
"It's true then!" her eyes confirmed his worst fear. "No..." he gasped, his eyes shooting to look at the very confused Llehak.
"And... you knew," he turned back to Bastila, "You knew all along, of course you did..." he was so angry he could hardly see straight.
"Knew what? You're confusing me, Carth."
Carth ignored Llehak's comment completely. He couldn't look at him yet. Never would be good. He was too preoccupied with everything to oppose Bastila much when she decided that explanations should be kept for later. Made sense. They still needed Ll... Revan's help to get off the ship. The longer he was unaware of his past, the longer he would be useful.
Even more useful than Carth had expected - the ship seemed to be crawling with dark Jedi. But that would mean Malak was already... oh fuck.
His instinctive reaction to shoot had no effect on the figure blocking their way. His blaster flew from his hand without much attention from the Dark Lord. Revan's apprentice. The man only had eyes for his old master, even Bastila whom he'd been hunting for so restlessly was ignored.
"Hello, lover," his metallic voice drawled, and Carth could hear Bastila's gasp. It seemed this was something even she didn't know.
"What..."
"Guess I am not unforgettable, then - Revan."
~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~
Leviathan: Llehak
Petrified, Llehak could only stand still when Malak took the last step and pulled him close for an embrace.
"I'd kiss you - but you made sure I'll never kiss anyone again."
Instead, he placed his hand on Llehak's forehead and the confused man could feel him attacking his mind. Memories, Malak's, and... his own? But they were... Revan's...
Instinctively he drew on the Force and pushed Malak from him. Unprepared, the man flew five meters back, but the attack on his mind didn't end.
"Feel me in your mind, lover... ah, no, you always preferred me calling you 'master'. Feel it again - all that we shared!"
Llehak gasped, his body reacting to the rush of memories forced into his mind with lightening speed. He was achingly hard the second, then nearly weeping from pain the next.
"Stop!" he yelled. "I am not him! I am not Revan!"
"Well, I know one thing... you're not my master any more!" the other man shouted, and attacked him.
Assaulted by memories Llehak could hardly keep his defence up, he was drowning... and then Bastila was there, in his mind, by his side in the fight - pushing him out - yelling in his head: "You can stop him - permanently - but not here..."
"Bastila!" But he was beating a closed door, and Carth was pulling him away. The pain! He was holding his head with both his hands, and Carth was nearly carrying him out of the ship but when Llehak met his eyes they were filled with anger over his betrayal.
That was almost too much to bear in his present state. If Carth would hate him... If he withdrew his support...
When they reached the Ebon Hawk, Carth dumped him unceremoniously on the floor, and he stayed there, on his knees, head bent. "They're both in my head..." he muttered, hardly aware of the movement around him.
~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~
Ebon Hawk: Carth
"Whoa!" The ship was trembling. "Who's flying?" Carth inquired, looking around him.
"Jolee," Mission muttered, kneeling next to the shaking man on his knees. Carth didn't know what to call him even in his head. Well, first things first.
"No wonder he crashed on Kashyyyk. I'll take over the flying, Canderous, Juhani, get to the gun turrets, we need to shoot our way out!"
After he got the Hawk flying more smoothly, and they got clear away he set the ship on autopilot and returned to the area in the middle of the ship they had dubbed 'the living room'.
Llehak was still kneeling on the floor, almost sobbing. He looked up when Carth entered the room, as if sensing his presence.
"Will you tell them?" Llehak whispered, "or should I?"
"Tell us what?" Mission was frowning.
Carth looked at the kneeling man, and felt all his anger and feeling of betrayal drain out. This broken shell of a man had been betrayed, too, even worse than him.
"Why didn't they just let me die?" Llehak's voice was still so quiet Jolee's answering snort sounded uncommonly loud. "Jedi," he merely said, as if it explained all. Obviously he knew what they were talking about, Carth noted.
The others didn't and Llehak looked up, meeting Mission's confused gaze: "I'm Revan."
"What?!" came from three mouths - at least Carth assumed the rrrowr Zaalbar let out had the same meaning.
"We... we just found out," Carth explained, "When the Jedi defeated Darth Revan, his mind was... damaged. So they repaired it, and gave him a new identity."
"New name, new past..." Revan whispered, "and I have to tell you," he was grinning tiredly, "on the face of that history it confused the stuffing out of me to be noticing men the way I was..."
"Eww!"
"Not my type, Mandalorian."
"But Malak was..."
"Malak," he repeated, closing his eyes. "The universe was nearly destroyed... for love..."
Silence.
"We always... cared deeply for each other but the Jedi are not allowed to love. So we denied ourselves. Until... We left to help people, never doubt that, but once we realised we were just soldiers... Bonds between warriors have never been frowned on. We could be together. And we grew stronger for it. Our minds were linked - we could plan, communicate, keep in touch so much better... so much more efficient... We were unstoppable!
"So, naturally, we started to wonder what else the Council had been wrong about... and once you start falling you keep on falling. But the Dark side does not know love. It has passion, possession, power... What ended us? The first time I made him call me his master?
"His jaw... We did not kiss any more... Sex was all about power. And then I saw him kissing someone else..."
"I can guess where this is going."
"But, you see, I didn't do it then! I did not strike him down in passionate anger. He didn't even know I'd seen him. Or he didn't care. But Darth Revan did not share his toys. So I... I met him, later. I kissed him... and then I took my lightsaber..."
He was quiet for a long time, staring into the distance although Carth got the idea he didn't actually see the Hawk's interior.
"When my mind was damaged, the Bond was apparently destroyed... ripped apart... maybe the other bond with Bastila was born as a side-effect, I don't know. But now, meeting him... he somehow rekindled the link and... and was in my head again. But all this - I don't see it from *his* perspective, they are not *his* memories. They are... Revan's. They are mine..."
"But you're still not killing us, so I suppose they're just that - memories. Right?" Mission, loyal Mission, hadn't left his side for a second. Carth envied her that certainty.
Still, it wasn't Mission's eyes he was seeking but Carth's when he whispered, "I hope so."
"Let me get this straight," Canderous was talking now, "The warriors who defeated us were..." he looked too disgusted to get the words out.
Llehak got up, looking almost relieved at the distraction. He stalked closer to the Mandalorian and the small smile on his face wasn't very pleasant.
"What?" he purred, "Does it disturb you to think about it? That the man who defeated your people, the general you admired for kicking your ass liked taking it up the ass? Liked nothing better than locking himself up in his quarters with his second in command and fucking him senseless?"
He stopped, a few steps short of touching him. He was shorter and leaner than the other man, but no one could miss the quiet menace in his supposedly relaxed form. Carth found himself holding his breath.
"Get the picture? Need more help? Hard to fit together those two images, is it? All those years you wasted idolising someone you should despise? So disappointing to meet me in flesh? And know... and imagine..." he kept taunting the older man until the inevitable happened.
Revan dodged the first strike easily, and answered with a kick Canderous blocked. They were evenly matched in hand-to-hand combat but Carth, who had seen Llehak fight so often realised his style was slightly different now. He was even better than he had been. It seemed he had recovered even more than just random memories, and it scared him. If they were to continue with the fight, would he end up becoming Revan and killing Canderous? He was, after all, winning.
There was something desperate about him, his face a mask of bitter, angry determination, as he kept hitting the other man. He wasn't using the Force, at least not so as one would notice, but the ruthless strength in his attacks...
Canderous was down and Revan was pinning him to the floor with a knee on his neck. He raised his arm for one final blow... so slow and deliberate that Carth, who hadn't even realised he was going to act before he did, was able to stop him with a simple gesture of resting his palm on his bicep. Revan turned to look at him, Llehak in his eyes.
"Don't," Carth said, his voice almost unemotional in its calmness. "You're not angry at him. You're angry at Malak. You're angry at yourself. At Bastila, for sacrificing herself. At me for judging you - don't take it out on Canderous just because it is easiest."
With a sigh, Llehak got up, stumbling, obviously feeling his bruises now. Carth helped him out of the room without a word or look to anyone.
~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~
Ebon Hawk: Llehak
Suddenly he was so worn he could only stay up with Carth's help. He hurt, the last thing he had needed was another fight but... It had felt so good, so easy, to hide from it all in senseless violence. Was that the ease of the Dark side? Giving in to anger, desperation... Would he have stopped if Carth hadn't...
Carth. Carth, whose eyes had been so filled with rage and were so calm now. Whose touch was so gentle when helping him to lie down, but so ... so impersonal, like a nurse... like just a fellow soldier.
He was lying down on the bunk farthest from the door, head towards the wall, and Carth sat down on the floor against that wall, next to him. Close enough to touch, but he didn't. Heads level, but he didn't meet his eyes.
"I don't even know where to start," Llehak finally whispered, looking up. Carth turned his head silently but he couldn't read his expressionless face. "How to even begin to apologise... Malak destroyed your home world, and I... I made him what he is... I loved him..."
Humourless laugh stopped his train of thought.
"I may be a hypocrite but not that bad. You see... the man who also destroyed Telos - Saul Karath - I loved him."
"But you had a wife!" he couldn't help the shocked tone. He had recited that as a mantra in his head for so long, a line to keep himself from even thinking about suggesting something.
"And I loved her," Carth explained quietly, "I just loved him too. And he loved me, once. I was... very young in the beginning but even though he was my commanding officer... it worked. Then I met Morgana, and that was that. I had a life on Telos, with my wife and son, but... those long campaigns away from home... Occasionally, I would... we would... but he always knew I would go home to her," he paused, staring out of the door again as if seeing the past.
"When he tried to... recruit me, he accused me for not choosing an ideology over another but choosing her over him. Again. I... didn't see it that way, naturally. But whatever my choice meant, I ended up losing both of them."
"I..." What could he say to that?
"Yeah," the older man said, as if understanding everything he couldn't put into words.
"I didn't feel guilty, you know. The person I was at home and the person I was in space... felt so completely removed from each other. Only afterwards... when he wasn't worth any loyalty... I tell you, this sadistic monster he's become, I could never have foreseen. The torture..."
The memory of the interrogation made Llehak close his eyes. "I was... It was good he chose Bastila to... break me. Had it been you... I don't think I could've..."
His admission, and all that came with it, hung in the air around them. Llehak opened his eyes but didn't see a thing as he turned to stare at the wall, somehow knowing Carth was still staring out the door.
He had no idea how long they'd been silent, or how long it would have went on, had Mission not shown up at the door.
"Jolee wants to know if either one of you is in need of healing."
They finally met each other's eyes and burst out laughing. They were very much in need of healing, both of them, but not the kind Jolee was offering, and somehow that just had them laughing, long and hard.
Mission stared at them with an expression that could universally be translated as "men!"
She left, and their laughter died out. They were still not talking, and even the eye contact was severed again. Finally Llehak got up, gingerly.
Carth was also wincing because of his earlier injuries, and Llehak raised his hand, then hesitated. It was instinctive to heal his companions in the heat of the battle or afterwards but now... It felt like a violation.
"May I... heal your injuries?" he asked quietly.
Carth looked at him for a moment, with that unreadable expression of his, as if searching for something on his face. Then he nodded, and somehow Llehak got the feeling he was pleased he had asked and not assumed.
He had half expected the Force to feel different now that he knew his true identity but it answered to his call as easily as it always had, and he tried not to think too deeply on the intimacy of the act. When he was done channelling the healing energy he turned around, and started towards the door, then paused, and looked back briefly.
"What I said..." he began, then looked away, "please forget it."
Carth didn't say anything, so after a while he took a step towards the door only to be frozen again by a quiet "No" from behind him.
He turned to face the other man.
"I don't think I can. I... don't think I want to."
They stared at each other again in silence. Then Carth looked away, running a hand through his hair.
"We will have to talk, one day. Right now, I don't think either one of us is ready for it."
He walked past Llehak, disappearing into the direction of the cockpit.
Llehak only realised he was grinning madly at the wall when Mission called him freaky five minutes later, walking past him.
~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~
The Cockpit: Llehak
It was the ship's night, and everyone but Llehak was asleep. He had woken up after only few hours of rest and decided to join T3 in the cockpit duty. Even on autopilot someone needed to keep an eye on the controls, and the astrodroid was more than capable of doing it, but he was too afraid to sleep any more. What little sleep he'd had had been filled with dreams of the past. He couldn't help but feel Malak's influence.
He was pretty certain the other man couldn't actually read his mind, or even his present location... but he didn't really want to remember... Revan.
He was still tired, so he fell into a semi-meditation sitting on the co-pilot's chair, feet on the console. For a second it amused him to think about what Master Vrook would think of his pose, then he remembered the fate of Dantooine, and had to forcefully push the pain from his mind. It reminded him of Bastila, too.
He tried to reach her in his mind, to ascertain she was still alive and well. Alive, yes - in terrible pain. That was the impression he got before she closed the connection. Protecting him? Oh, Bast... He hadn't liked her at first - she wasn't easy to like. But he'd grown to regard her as... as a sister, almost.
He placed his feet on the floor again, resting his elbows on his knees, and hid his face in his hands.
Just so tired...
He remembered, just a couple of days ago, nodding off in 'the living room'. It had been Carth who had taken care of him.
"Come on, kid, bed."
"Kid!?" he spluttered, meeting the teasing gaze.
"Sometimes you appear about as old as the Twi'lek - but she'd get mad if I call *her* a kid," the other man explained, grinning openly.
Llehak responded by opening his eyes very wide and asking in a child-like voice, "but daddy, why is my sister blue?"
For a second he feared he'd gone too far but the glistening in Carth's eyes was humour, not tears.
"'Cos your mama was a tramp," he said dryly, and Mission's startled gasp transformed into laughter.
When Carth's eyes had looked at him with such anger he'd thought to never see the light of laughter in them again. That's why the gift of shared laughter had been so very precious to him. And Carth's acceptance of his admitted emotions... and the hint of a promise of... of what? Reciprocity? Hope was impossible to kill in the face of his words.
But had he meant them the way he had interpreted them? Or was he just playing for time, keeping him from being a nuisance... He couldn't. Not him. Not the honest, honourable... handsome... Oh, bugger. He groaned out loud. Do not go there.
He started when the door slid open.
"Oh, you," he muttered, battling down the joy he always felt when seeing the other man. Feeling almost as if his thoughts had summoned him there.
"Didn't mean to scare you. Can't sleep?" his voice was kind, as ever. He sat down on the pilot's chair everyone always left empty for him. Ebon Hawk only had one pilot, so everyone else spent their watches on the co-pilot's chair.
"No. Dreams... or maybe visions. I... keep seeing the past."
When Carth didn't seem troubled by the topic he elaborated.
"It's disturbing. I *see* the memories but don't really... don't connect with them. I am not him," he finished, whispering.
"If you were, I'd have taken that blaster shot to your head by now."
Llehak hoped that was humour in his voice.
"Too bad you didn't remember anything useful," Carth said, automatically checking their course. Had he remembered the location and purpose of the Star Forge, they would not need to visit Manaan.
"I think Malak was careful about what he let me see. And... some of that stuff must be destroyed permanently," he fell silent, going through the alien memories scattered around his brain.
"Bastila is alive," he said out of nowhere, and felt Carth's gaze on his face. "She's in pain..."
"But still alive," Carth reminded.
"I remember... on Taris, when we *finally* found her... Wasn't at all what I expected."
"No," Carth admitted, smiling. "None too appreciative of our efforts."
"Not quite what you'd expect a Jedi to be."
"Or then exactly what you'd expect," his voice was dry, and Llehak shot him a quick smile.
"Couldn't stand her," he then admitted.
"She makes it quite hard."
"On Dantooine she was a different person. I could even ask her help, without her rubbing my nose in it. And I needed her... It's weird, having someone else in your head. I learned to block her quite soon, of course... but now... when she is the one blocking me... I find myself missing her presence."
"What about... Malak?"
"He's still there as well. I cannot sever the connection, just merely shut him out. But occasionally, in my dreams... I'm sure it's him influencing them..."
"I can't even begin to imagine what it is like... Can't understand how you find strength to go on."
"Can't you?" he shot him a quick look from under his lashes.
"You can't mean..."
"No?" He knew there was too much in his voice, in his eyes - he buried his face in his hands again. "Sorry... Promised not to... Just so tired..."
He heard Carth get up and half-expected him to escape - but still wasn't really surprised when a gentle hand rested on his shoulder.
"Come on, kid, bed."
"Too afraid to sleep..." he mumbled, half-asleep on the chair already, so he didn't resist much when the older man helped him up, and steered him towards the crew quarters.
"Sometimes it strikes me - whom I've just called 'kid'," Carth said out of the blue.
"Don't feel like him, you know," Llehak muttered. "Not like the Saviour nor the Destroyer. More like... a kid."
~*~
The Cockpit: Llehak
Another sleepless night found Llehak again in the co-pilot's chair, staring at the stars. It did not surprise him, really, to hear the opening door, and the familiar steps stopping by the chair.
Carth looked pointedly at his feet on the console but he merely grinned unrepentantly.
"That your usual flight position?"
"Nah, my meditation pose."
"Oh yeah? That the Jedi standard?"
"Sure, Vandar uses it all the time."
"How do his feet reach the console?"
Llehak leaned closer, and whispered, as if revealing a state secret, "he's levitating."
He was rewarded by a warm chuckle from the older man.
"Did you sleep at all?"
"Very little. I won't be much help in Manaan if I can't get any rest."
"Still dreaming?"
"Every time I close my eyes."
"Maybe Jolee could do something..."
"I don't... I don't want anyone in else in my head. It's crowded as is," he grinned half-heartedly, then got up, and swayed on his feet. "I'll... I'll go try that sleeping thing again."
"Good idea. Want me to... That is... You think it would help not being alone?" his voice was hesitant, and Llehak wasn't sure what he was offering.
Well, what ever it was, he was taking it.
"Yes," he whispered, not looking at Carth.
He felt a warm hand on his shoulder through the thin material of his shirt. "Come on, kid."
They made their way to the crew quarters they shared with Canderous. The Mandalorian opened his eyes when sensing the movement but noting their presence non-threatening, fell back to the quiet, light sleep of a soldier. Llehak envied him that ability these days.
He sat down on his bunk to remove his boots. Too tired to bother with anything else, he lay down, fully clothed. Carth sat down next to him.
"You not tired?"
"Not really. I slept before coming to check on you."
The warmth he felt at that simple statement was incredible. Carth hadn't just chanced into the cockpit, he had expected to find Llehak there. He turned his head to meet the warm gaze and they got lost in each other's eyes for long time. Then a yawn forced him to move.
"Scoot," Carth commanded, and sat down on the bunk, guiding him to rest his head on his lap. He felt... safe. Warm. Protected. Loved... as he started to drift off, he heard Carth quietly humming something that could only be a lullaby.
~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~
The Crew Quarters: Carth
There was nothing sexual in holding the younger man, but he did not really feel very paternal either. Still, the restful expression on that recently so tortured-looking face brought memories of another young face he had loved... quite a lot younger, though.
He remembered holding his son in bed after nightmares, soothing the new-born in the middle of the night so that Morgana could get some sleep during his too short shore leaves. Remembered the feeling of all-encompassing, protective love that had filled him in those moments. Morgana had never made him feel protective.
For some reason, Llehak did, even though he was as much his equal as Morgana had been.
The words of the lullaby he was humming came to his head. Quite disturbing, actually. One of the many wartime lullabies. "World is broken and now, all in sorrow, wise men hang their heads... All the strength I need to find, I'll find inside your eyes... In your eyes..."
He felt the truth of the words. Dustil had been his reason to fight, to survive. He needed to save the galaxy so that his son could live in a better world. Now... He wanted Llehak to live. To survive. He needed to live to make sure Llehak lived, and was safe from the dark presence inside his own head.
He had not considered the possibility he would outlive Saul. Now... now he had a reason to look beyond simple revenge. He had strength to fight again.
Llehak had hinted that he was the reason he had strength to go on, to face all that the was thrown at him. Now Carth had to admit the reverse was true, as well. Llehak was his strength, his reason.
Probably not the wisest thing in the world, to fall for a Jedi. Especially not one who could become Sith at any moment.
But he feared it was already too late to do anything about it. He could love this man, should he let himself.
He stayed awake until the morning, holding Llehak, guarding his sleep, and keeping the nightmares at bay.
~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~
The Crew Quarters: Carth
He met Canderous's disgusted stare briefly as the other man woke up, then returned his attention to the younger man, whose head was resting on his thigh. Llehak had slept peacefully for hours, without nightmares. At least, not the violent kind that had him thrashing in his sleep.
What kind of nightmares would Revan have? What must he have seen and done?
...Revan. He tested the feel of the name on his tongue. Revan. Yes, he could love Revan. The thought should scare him. Mere idea of love should freak him out.
But falling had been easy. Hard part would be to actually trust the younger man with his emotions. He wasn't sure he could ever bring himself to risk that much of his self, ever again.
Should Llehak become Revan again... He had gone it through once, with Saul, and another time would surely kill him. If Revan didn't, first. Saul he could kill but Revan... He was no match for the Jedi.
Saul had hurt, and he had been obsessed with his grief, anger, and thirst for revenge. Saul had been his first love. But he had loved Morgana more, hadn't he? Or had he just grasped the opportunity to have children? A safe haven outside the Fleet?
He had felt he hadn't known love until holding his son for the first time, after all. And definitely, with her, he hadn't felt this overwhelming passion. This all-encompassing tenderness...
He smiled into the brown eyes slowly blinking open.
"I could... feel your presence, like a blanket, covering my thoughts... protecting me from the dreams," Llehak said quietly.
"I will always do anything in my power to protect you. I want you to know that. From nightmares, from Malak – from yourself if need be. I will be here for you."
It was a vow he intended to keep. He hadn't been able to save Morgana, or Dustil, but he would be damned if he'd lost Llehak.
The younger man rewarded his words with a smile that shone brighter than the twin suns of Tatooine.
"Uhh, we should get going," Carth got out, embarrassed by the amount of feeling in his open look.
Reluctantly, it seemed, Llehak got up and stretched his neck, then turned to walk out of the room.
Carth couldn't let him leave like that.
"I meant what I said," he said quietly. "We will talk... one day."
The smile was more restrained this time but filled with promise.
One day.
- - - - - - - - - - -
Working Title: Secure the Blessings
Author: Niki
Fandom: National Treasure
Pairing: Ben Gates/Ian Howe
Genre: (pre)slash
Rating: 13?
Disclaimer: It's a Disney movie, I believe.
Summary: AU version of the movie in the spirit of the best Disney movies – it has no bad guys.
Notes: This is the beginning of the story I intend to finish one day, the setting of the AU scene, so to say.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
Secure the Blessings
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
"--we mutually pledge to each other our Lives, our Fortunes and our sacred Honor."
from the Declaration of Independence
One might say I am obsessed. It's a family thing. For me it began in 1974 when my grandfather told me the family legend of a lost treasure and the clue we had been entrusted with. For my family it began in 1832 when my great-great-great-great-grandfather was told about "Charlotte", and the Templar treasure by Charles Carroll on the yard of the White House.
Boy's mind is easy to captivate with stories about lost treasures, and I developed an interest for history that amazed and frustrated my teachers because it overwhelmed me to the exclusion of other subjects.
A boy's mind... but I kept my interest to my manhood. Some people I alienated because of it. My father, my childhood friends, most girls I ever dated... but some I met and kept because of it.
I needed help with technology, and someone found me Riley. We... clicked. Maybe united in our respective geekiness, as he put it, I don't know. But he stayed.
Then there's Ian Howe. And he's something else entirely.
- - - - - - - - - - - -
I first met him in a suit, over a desk, as an imposing business man. I had heard he invested on unorthodox ventures, and mine was one if anything.
We continued our meeting over lunch (he paid, and I was in no position to say no to a free lunch, even had I not liked the man, which I did) and dinner and a nightcap. He seemed to actually be interested in what I explained, and I was never short of words when presented with a captive audience.
He did not treat me like a half-wit dreamer, and he asked intelligent questions. By the end of the lunch I knew I would be financed and by the end of the dinner we were so engrossed in our plans that I knew I had a partner, and not just a faceless financier.
I reminded him that it would be expensive, and the pay-off was uncertain. I felt idiotic telling a business man that but I didn't want him to... be disappointed. He asked me whether I played poker.
"You have to put money on the pot even before you see your cards. Then when you see them, it is up to you to decide whether they are good enough to invest more money in. Business is quite like poker in that sense. The trick is to know when to fold and when to bet."
So he paid his blind and gambled on me.
- - -
I've never had much friends. I never fitted in with the partying students. In the university it was easier to find people interested in the same things as me, but even there I failed to fit in. That obsession thing again.
Ian never got tired of listening to me go on for hours about some theory or interpretation. And he taught me to play poker. I wasn't very good at it. He taught me that it wasn't that much about bluffing as I had always thought but reading people. Learning to play their cards in stead of your own.
Maybe I should be concerned about my failure to read him. I seemed to be an open book to him. This worried me for reasons other than the game.
I never stayed long with the women I thought I loved. I'm not much into picking up people in bars but I am a man with man's needs. Occasionally, I notice men as well as women. Okay, a lot.
Being a history student this posed less problems to me as it might have to another teenager. With the examples from other times, other cultures, I could treat it in a larger context. Not that I wanted it to get out. I knew I would be an odd bird as it is because of my beliefs and theories about the Templars and their role in history, I did not want to give people extra ammunition.
Then Ian walked into my life. With his raggedly handsome looks and raw masculinity only barely hidden by the tailored suit... friendship wasn't the only thing in my mind. And if he could read me like a book, would he read my desire as well? Manly men such as him do not react well to geeks who fall for them.
I soon learned that he was more at home out of the suits, his longish hair released from its clasp, and in the company of his... assistants, who were what one might call 'common men' as opposed to the educated and polished air that he presented to the world. I could never quite understand where he got that wild bunch we travelled with on our escapades.
Until Charlotte.
- - -
The clue that had baffled my ancestors. The name. It was a ship, I was sure of it. And I knew where to find her.
It is amazing what money can get you. We had gear, transportation, and men used to hard dirty work. The men Ian was so at home with. The men we played poker with. Riley was there, too, but seldom joined in the game. He couldn't understand my willingness to be humiliated time after time, as he put it, and the fact that had we played for money I would have owed Ian my first-born child by the time we reached our destination.
I don't think Riley had slept well in the ship as he was being geekier than usual in the last part of our journey. I was just glad we didn't need to do it with dog sledges.
"Assuming Ben's theory's correct and my tracking model accurate we should be getting very close. But don't go by me, I broke a shoe lace this morning," Riley said.
I turned my head just to see Ian doing the same on other side of him, first staring at Riley incredulously, then meeting my eyes.
"It's... it's a bad omen," Riley explained, as if it was common knowledge.
"Shall we turn around and go home?" Ian asked, politely.
"Or we could pull over and just throw him out here," I suggested, and was rewarded by a beautiful grin from Ian.
Riley was not happy as we laughed. Poor Riley. We had become friends quickly but... it was just so much fun needling him.
Then all my thoughts were interrupted because we had reached the site.
- - -
She was there, and she was beautiful. I sat down with Ian, prior to going in, and thanked him for enabling this moment. Had I not met him two years before, had he not believed in the treasure – in me.... I don't think I'd ever have gotten that far.
He didn't share my view.
"You would have found it," he said with confidence. "That's why I didn't think it was as crazy an investment as everyone says."
"I'm just relieved I'm not as crazy as everyone says. Or said my dad was. Or my granddad. Or my great-granddad."
I admit to certain amount of giddiness at having been proven right, and Ian's indulgent smile at the face of it was beatific. He was glad that I was glad, he was happy that I was happy. He rejoiced on the fact I had be proven right, for its sake alone, not because of the pay-off somewhere in the future. At least that's what I believed but like I've said, I never could read him right when he had his game face on.
- - -
We found a pipe. Yes, the kind you smoke. It was filled with symbols and strange markings that proved to be writing. After a quick brainstorming session we came to the conclusion the new clues referred to the Declaration of Independence. Great. Hidden message in the original manuscript. With my reputation, I was sure they'd be *more* than happy to let me take a look.
"We have to arrange a way to examine it," Ian said, sitting down next to me.
"This is one of the most important documents in history. They're not just gonna let us waltz in there and run chemical tests on it," I reminded him.
"Then what do you propose we do?" He asked, and I snapped.
"I don't know!"
"We could borrow it," he suggested.
"Steal it?" I asked, and he just looked at me. "I don't think so."
"Ben... the treasure of the Knights Templar is the treasure of all treasures."
"Oh, I didn't know that. Really?" The sarcasm was dripping off my tongue as I took out my frustration and disappointment out on him.
"Look, Ben..." he said patiently, luckily not affected by my tone. "I understand your bitterness, I really do. You've spent your entire life searching for this treasure only to have the respected historical community treat you and your family with mockery and contempt. You should be able to rub this treasure in their arrogant faces, and I want you to have a chance to do that."
"How?"
"We all have our areas of expertise. You don't think mine are limited to writing cheques, do you?"
He let out a little awkward laugh. "In another life... I arranged a number of operations of... questionable legality."
I looked at him incredulously and Shaw moved closer to us, as a show of support to his boss. I got up, and took a few steps away from them, towards Riley.
"Ian... we can't steal the Declaration if Independence," I said, decisively.
"Borrow it," he corrected, smiling, and I just blinked.
"Have you any idea what you are saying! We can't do that!"
"So, what, after all these years you are willing to ignore the next clue, and go home to go on with your life? What happened to the man who was willing to do anything, face anyone, survive any amount of ridicule and hardships to reach his goal?"
"But... the Declaration! That's a symbol! A national treasure! Not to mention, it's illegal!"
"Correct me if I'm wrong but wasn't writing that document an act of treason against the British crown?"
I taught him that. One night when discussing history and fighting for what you believe in, I explained to him what those men risked, drafting that document. And now the bastard was using it against me.
"But that was for the greater good! They knew it was better for the people to be free from..."
"So, let's say you find out someone was about to steal the document, and the only way to protect it from these unscrupulous creatures was to steal it yourself before they could...?"
"Well, in that insane hypothetical situation, yes, I suppose I would do anything in my power to prevent them."
"Even though you would be breaking the law?"
"Well, I mean..."
"Yes or no?"
"Yes!"
Everyone else seemed content to follow our intense conversation from the background.
"So even your morality is flexible, depending on the proper motivation." There was no triumph in his voice, just enough feeling to force me think, actually *think* his words and the implication.
"So it would seem," I replied, "but as there is no such unscrupulous ploy in existence..."
"I could arrange for it," he said, grinning, then turned serious again. "Ask yourself this, then. Why are you searching this treasure? To prove your theory? To prove your grandfather right? For the monetary value of the treasure?"
"No!"
"No. You search it for the knowledge. For the unaccountable historical value it potentially possesses. Now you need to consider this. Is one historical document, valuable as it is to one nation as a symbol, more important, more valuable, than the chance of discovering something even more valuable to more nations."
"I..."
"Besides, it's not as if we have to decide this now. Who knows, maybe they will let us take a look."
"Yeah, right," I heard Riley mutter in the background but could only stare at my other friend.
"You were a criminal?"
- - - - - - - - - - - - -
Ian Howe. He really is something else.
We're back in the civilization in the form of a nice, warm hotel room and he's about to tell me about his past. For this discussion we have no witnesses.
He offers me a tumbler filled with soft brown liquor and I wonder at my own ease in his company. He could be telling me that he is a murderer for all I know and still I feel... safe.
"I don't want this to sound like a typical sob story," he begins, smiling self-deprecatingly, "but I never knew my parents. I met Shaw in the orphanage. I got adopted, he didn't. I went to the best schools, he learned in the streets. When we met again, I was in the position to hire him. I had discovered I quite liked money, and the security it offered, but was... frustrated with the more accepted ways of acquiring it. I soon realised I had certain aptitude to organising, and if the operations I organised were of questionable legality... well, I only took from people who could afford to lose money. Not from any idealistic reason but because it made sense from the business side. I set myself a goal, the amount of money I needed to get to be able to retire and pursue... other interests, more legal in nature. We reached that, left the old country behind, came to the States and started new lives."
He takes a sip of his glass, and turns to meet my eyes for the first time.
"I've never killed anyone," he finishes, "nor have I asked my men to do it. That is not how I operate."
"I believe you," I say, and I do.
"Thank you. I... find that matters."
"Not killing?"
"That too," he smiles, "but I meant... what you think of me."
Oh.
"Oh."
- - -
It doesn't really change anything. I always knew Ian had more to him than meets the eye. Well, now I know some of it, and... It causes mixed feelings, I have to admit. So he was a criminal and never punished for it. The money financing this operation was probably earned breaking the law. Not necessarily though, because he has obviously made it as a legit businessman this side of the pond.
He is also my friend, and the first person to really believe in me. So am I going to let him steal the Declaration of Independence for me? Or am I going to have him arrested for what he did in the past?
What is the right thing to do, and does it factor into my thinking that I'm pretty much falling in love with him? Can I really be objective about this?
Talking to Riley doesn't really help. He can't get over the whole stealing thing.
"We're going to steal the Declaration?" he shouts as I enter his hotel room.
"A little louder, there, Riley, I don't think they heard you in Alabama."
He just glares at me, and I shrug, grinning. "Borrow it."
"For the good cause. Yeah, right. But you better hope they'll let us take a look at it because stealing it will be impossible."
"So... you'd be willing to try? And go on working with Ian despite all this?"
His turn to shrug and I realise all this stuff about Ian's past is not that important to him. Well, as he does not harbour a major crush on the man maybe it makes it more simple. Then again, it does make me wonder about his morality.
"Hey, I go with your lead. If you trust him, I trust him. You knew him first."
Like I said. A big help.
- - -
I go back to Ian's room. He's still sipping his drink, as if waiting for my judgement.
"What if I said no?" I ask quietly.
He sighs. "I've put a lot of money into this project. I wouldn't like giving up when the obstacles are not insurmountable."
I swallow, fearing what comes next. Is this when he shows me his true colours and proves that I've never been able to read him right? Is this when he turns into a ruthless criminal?
"That said, I don't want to be your enemy," he says softly. "I could leave you behind and do this my way but I believe you would do everything in your power to stop me, and, who knows, you might succeed. You are one of the smartest people I have ever met, and your tenacity rivals my own. We could play cat and mouse all over the country, fighting for the treasure... and either one of us could win. Could be fun." He grins suddenly. "But I still think it would be more fun to do it together. But that requires your acceptance of my past, and, maybe, my methods."
"Have you..." I swallow, "Have you ever broken the law in this country?"
He meets my gaze evenly. "No."
"But you'd do it for this?"
"Yes."
"For me, or for the treasure?" I hear myself asking before I can stop myself, and he grins again.
"Maybe we'll find out."
I study his calm form on the sofa, and pace the room for a moment.
"Okay," I finally say, offering him my hand which he shakes solemnly.
"Partners," he says.
"Partners," I reply.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
no subject
I hope you do write more of this AU; it's excellent. Every time I see that movie I'm caught by the scene in the church where they're sitting there with the glasses and the Declaration. They're bizarrely close for a couple of guys who are supposed to be mortal enemies at that point, and it always makes me wonder how much more fun the Quest would have been if they'd both been playing off each other the whole time, instead of against each other.
no subject
I am actually still working on the sequel to the Age of Fire and Gravel (about halfway through, it sorta grew massive...), and hope to finish this AU during the summer as well... because it's the story I wanted to read and no one wrote it for me!;)