|SWTOR Fanfic - Quinn and Pierce hate each other
||[Apr. 6th, 2012|01:14 am]
No spoilers other than knowing who the Sith Warrior companions are. The next scene in "Escape from the Manor"
Malavai helped his lord (his lover) back to their ship and settled her in her cabin to rest and finish healing. He’d insisted on her early release from the tank; House Thul’s care was good enough for crisis mode, but once she was healed enough to move she would mend better in the safety of the Fury. Under his care. Not that of some useless noble’s asinine physician.
He watched by the bed until she was deeply asleep.
Watching her, he thought back to what she’d revealed in the alcove. That she loved him deeply; that she hoped he loved her. He’d made his decision in that instant, responding to her. Not characteristic, not for him. Or, more likely, had made it long since and merely verbalized it there and then. “I am yours forever,” he’d said. Only to be brutally made aware that ‘forever’ might not be very long at all. Just how did one come to terms with the idea that one’s beloved could be stolen away… was likely to be stolen away… far too soon for comfort?
The roil of emotions that realization brought up was uncomfortable in the extreme. Well, if he had anything to say about it, that moment of ultimate loss would be postponed as far as possible. He left her quarters and went looking for his datapad. Taking it into the lounge, he made himself a cup of coffee and settled in to do some serious research.
The chime of the airlock briefly interrupted his thoughts. Glancing over to the entry, he noted Lieutenant Pierce’s return to the ship and bent again to the screen, studying the offerings of advanced portable diagnostic and healing units.
“I heard you nearly got the lord killed.” Pierce rumbled with his usual tact and understanding.
Malavai looked up at the burly Special Ops soldier standing at the end of the couch, arms folded. “She is resting. Kindly keep your voice down.”
“Word is, she was fighting and you were too late with the healing. What’s the matter, Quinn? Can’t handle her?” Pierce chuckled at his own wit.
The innuendo made Malavai’s hackles rise. The summation, accurate or not, made his vision go red as the horrible instant when he saw her fall replayed itself in memory.
Goaded into an indiscretion, he said: “As if you would have been able to save her. Do you know what she says about you?” He clapped his mouth shut before he could make it worse.
Pierce’s eyes narrowed and he leaned in, looming. “What does she say about me?” he growled.
“Nothing. Drop it, Lieutenant,” Malavai ordered curtly.
“I won’t. If you didn’t fill her ears with lies about me, I’d be in your place right now.” And he made a crude, unmistakable gesture.
One step too far, Malavai thought distantly, as red rage swamped him. He rose smoothly to his feet and latched onto the Lieutenant with a painful come-along hold, force-marching him the few steps to the airlock.
The airlock cycled. With a sudden vicious jerk, Pierce wrenched himself out of the hold. Grabbing Malavai by the jacket, he hurled him bodily down the ramp.
“I’m going to enjoy this,” he snarled.
The force of the throw was staggering. Malavai rolled with it onto the concrete of the landing bay, barely missing the ramp support.
Pierce grinned and leapt from the ramp after him. With a convulsive effort, Malavai eeled out of the way and the other man crashed down where he’d been an instant before. Pierce was back on his feet faster than he’d thought the man could move; Malavai scrambled to regain his own footing.
They circled each other warily. They closed. He lashed out; blood sprayed from Pierce’s lip. The big man roared and struck again. A brutal blow to the ribs staggered Malavai. He had to end this quickly.
Something seemed to be wrong with Pierce’s left shoulder, probably from when he’d pulled himself free from the come-along. Malavai dodged under a headstrike and grabbed for that arm. Leverage worked for him and Pierce slammed into the concrete. He howled in pain and reached right-handed for Malavai’s legs, wrenching him to the ground. Malavai fell hard, no chance to cushion the blow. Pierce raised himself and loomed over him where he lay with the breath knocked out of him.
“Say goodbye, Captain,” he spat as his fist cocked back. That was all the opening Malavai had. He grabbed Pierce by the shoulders and brought his knee up hard between the man’s thighs. Rolling atop the stunned lieutenant, he laced his fingers across the man’s neck. Pierce made to stand; Malavai increased the pressure.
“Move and I break your spine,” he grunted, holding the bigger man in an iron grip. Pierce heaved; Malavai felt ligaments starting to give under his hands. Pierce subsided, the tension leaving his body.
“I yield,” he said, starting to raise his hands and stopping with a hiss of pain.
“Keep your filthy thoughts off Lord Adiira,” Malavai growled. He let go and stood up, swaying. Pierce stayed where he was for a long beat, then painfully levered himself onto his knees.
“You can fight,” he rumbled grudgingly. “No need to bring this up to anyone?”
“None,” Malavai snapped. He made his way back into the ship, leaving Pierce behind.
(Pierce watched the smaller man walk away with narrowed eyes. He rubbed his chin thoughtfully, wincing at the pain in his shoulder. Quinn had left him alive; the captain wasn’t infallible after all, but the bastard could fight. Best to use a workaround, then.)