Ask Two is Plenty

[Merian Sere]

“It’s not—let go of me!” Merian wrestled her arm free from him. Then she stood at the bottom of the ramp, facing Maros as the realization crashed over her, dousing her in ice. No. No, no, no. Please.

“Maros,” she hesitated. Her voice wavered, the fear she might have been wrong. “You said things were dreadful without me. I want you back. Tell me we’re of the same mind.” I beg you.

 

[Merian Sere]

“Do not presume to dictate what I can care about, Maros,” Merian snarled through clenched teeth. She didn’t move one iota, still as a statue and cold as the stone it was made of. “I risked death caring about you because I thought you’d changed. But I see you now.”

Merian’s lightsaber found its way to her hand and growled, surprising even herself, but it felt good, and she meant it. When the bloody light from the alarm flashed, the orange blade looked red just like his.

“I respected your choice, Maros. Not anymore. A life with me is reason enough to care. I won’t let you go back to squalor and hurt yourself out of pride. I can’t bear to see you like this. And I don’t care if I have to save you from yourself.”

 

[Merian Sere]

What had she expected? For him to agree? To back down when he saw she was serious? To at least say something, anything?

He was on her like a storm, heavy and sudden. Merian swiped her blade before her, deflecting his to the side, but the impact of him sent her reeling down the ramp and almost toppled her to her back. She looked at him again as she recovered, death itself with the red blade and the high ground, threatening shadows over his rugged face. The alarm drilled in her ears. She hadn’t wanted to fight him. In the Lance, she’d done all she could to avoid it, because she’d known herself outmatched.

She brought her lightsaber back up, this time in a purely defensive guard, Merian on the backfoot.

“Maros...”

 

[Merian Sere]

The armored knight dropped like a felled tree and the crash knocked the wind out of her. Her lightsaber deactivated so that she wouldn’t cut herself with it. And as she lay there stunned, trying to wriggle herself back to her feet, Maros took slow steps towards her, unstoppable steps, blade still in hand to finish her, and Merian had never been afraid of anything like she was afraid of him now. It set her insides on fire, drove her to act with nothing but the purest instinct of self-preservation. She rolled backwards, and when she landed crouched her DC-17 was in her hand.

The shots came impossibly fast, like she didn’t need to aim. Maros batted the first away at the cost of his advance, and the rest of them forced him to leap back for his life. Merian rushed forward to press her advantage. Her lightsaber was seamlessly back in her hand and she rained blows from the left and right, finally in control for the first time in the duel.

 

[Merian Sere]

Below him, Merian groaned. So this was it. Out of weapons, out of tricks, out of words. A searing pain lanced her arm and thigh that made her want to scream, but she wouldn’t give him the satisfaction. She could barely move the limbs. Her chest rapidly rising and falling was the last part of her still defying gravity.

Him. She should have known. All her memories of Maros came to her in a flash, starting with Korriban. She hadn’t noticed him before Ryloth, really noticed him, when they were both ISB and in a league of their own. There hadn’t been others like them. There never would be now, with the split. Deadly field agents whose skill and quick thinking were only matched by their power in the Force, and it was no wonder they’d so often found themselves paired up for the most important assignments. They’d come to know each other, trust each other, owe their lives to each other. Now she was a Knight and he was a Sith, and her life was in his hands. Time to pay what was owed.

What broke Merian’s heart was knowing no one would miss her. Sure, the Empire would miss her service, the Imperial Knights may miss her talents, but no one would miss her. Except him. He’d never admitted it so forthright before today, but he’d kept an eye on her beyond work. Now she wished she’d kissed him before. It wouldn’t make him come back now, but maybe then it would have made him stay. But she’d never known how. Even when he’d been the only one to care about her. Her anchor, steady and blunt and chained.

Her breathing slowed. Calmed. Merian gave the slightest shake of her head, accepting. She looked in Maros’ eyes and almost didn’t recognize him. It was the same rage she’d always known, but it was so different on the receiving end. The alarm hadn’t stopped ringing. Whatever came next, she was ready.

“Even now,” she managed to say. She was pleased to hear her voice so peaceful. “Knowing how it ends, I’d love you the same way.”

Merian closed her eyes and waited for the blow.

 

[Merian Sere]

Merian heard the Fate of Stars power on and she knew she had to act fast. Even the fact that she was still alive she barely had time to process. She’d figure out later what it meant. Her right arm extended in direction of the DC-17, fallen just out of her reach. The blaster glided to her hand like of its own will. Then came the hardest part.

Merian cried out as she began the laborious process of turning her armored body onto her stomach. Easy enough under normal circumstances; quite the challenge with a dead arm and leg that erupted in pain at the slightest pressure. But she made it. Then she pushed herself up with her good arm, folded her good leg under her, and she was kneeling. Then she stood.

The ship was seconds away from departing. Merian took a step towards it, a single, wobbly step. Then her right arm went up and she fired. Above her, the hangar holocam erupted in a shower of sparks. Another shot and the other cam in the far corner met the same fate. And then Merian collapsed.

She was still alive.

The Fate of Stars’ engine roared and it was gone. Merian was alone in the hangar. It wouldn’t be for long. For a moment, she seriously considered laying there and letting herself die. She would have, if it was only about her. But it wasn’t. Her comrades would be landing on Dathomir any minute now. Perhaps they already had. They counted on her, and she was already late. She’d kissed a Sith rather than seeing to their lives and she would never forgive herself. Screaming from the effort, Merian stood back up.

She was still alive, and she had a job to do.

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