valarltd | more Wip

Buffy, untitled Oz/Riley

Riley dropped the crystal rosary into its box which sat in the top drawer of his nightstand. He felt a bit guilty about the dust that had accumulated on the box this year. Of course, he felt guilty about telling Buffy he wasn't well and going home alone.

The lie seemed to weigh less heavily on his conscience than the memories of his time in the Initiative. Watching the scientists torture, there was really no other word for it, Daniel Osbourne had settled all his questions. He remembered the boy from class, had graded his papers, and more than once had chuckled at the dry wit exhibited in the essays.

To learn that the quiet, gifted boy was a werewolf was hard enough. He wondered at that point whether the other HST's might be closer to human than he had been taught. But then to be forced to watch as the brass began testing...it had been too much.

Now, he was out of the Initiative for springing the guy, and he understood Willow had broken up with him in favor of the blonde girl. It seemed to call for a
few rosaries, if only to clear his mind with the chanting. He threw in a few extra comments, willing Oz to be safe as he traveled, far from commandos and witches and hellmouths.

The light knock at the window had him alert and on his feet.

******

Belloq/Indy, noncon
“Mon cheri, awake, cheri.” His eyelids are so heavy, he struggles to open them, as I coax. “Cheri, wake up. See what I have for you, mon efant.” I stroke his face, freshly shaven, and run my fingers through the thick hair of his head.

It pleases me to have such a large man helpless for me. He struggles more against the laudanum. Finally one eye opens and he glares at me.

“Getting repetitive in your old age, Belloq?” The words are a dry rasp. He has eaten nothing for days, and drunk very little. I’ve kept him unconscious with laudanum and opium. He should be thoroughly addicted by now.

“Not at all, cheri.” I bring a small cup of water to his face. He wants to turn away, but survival instinct forces him to drink. “Today, the lesson does not end. You failed. You have always failed. You failed to learn from me. You failed to save the girl. Even your ill-timed interruption of the ritual did not stop my experiment. The Ark is in Berlin now. The girl is enjoying the attentions of Toht. And you are mine. As far as your government knows, you are dead.”

“Where?”

I laugh. I will not tell him we are deep in the jungles of Kenya, two hours from Nairobi. The old fortress is virtually impregnable and his rooms are escape-proof. I hired an American escape artist to help me. He was well paid, and his death will appear an accident.

“You are here. In my possession. That is enough. It is all you will know, cheri.” I run a hand down his back. He is magnificent like this: naked, on his belly, his limbs chained to the legs of the low divan.

“Stop.”

“Stop what, cheri?” I cannot resist stroking his back, feeling the solid muscles under the skin.

“Stop calling me that. You’re repeating yourself. Gonna rape me again, too?” The venom with which he spits this at me is sweet.

“I amused myself with you many times in the last month. Only now have I decided to let you regain consciousness. I will not rape you.”

“Gee, that’s big of you.”

“This time you will ask me to take you.” It will be the coup de grace, the final blow.

“Never.”

I lean in close to whisper, “Never is a very long time, cheri. A very, very long time. In the dark. Alone.” I brush a kiss over his ear. At the door, I pause. “All you need do is ask me for anything. Food. Water. Laudanum.” I turn out the light and leave.

He watched as Belloq extinguished the light and listened as his captor locked the door. Pitch-black, no windows, nothing. No sound penetrated. Still half-drowsy from the drugs, Indiana slipped into sleep.

He awoke to thirst and raging hunger.

*****

Ares making mischief for the gang

"Solo!" The cry from the crowded cantina floor made his hand hover near his blaster. "I heard you were dead!" The woman threw herself at him and hugged him ferociously.

The tension eased and Luke and Leia studied the newcomer. Humans were always a minority in rim-world cantinas, and human females even rarer. This one stood almost as tall as Luke and wore a spacer's coverall.

"Can't trust all the news you hear over jet-juice, Talla. You know that. You
still shipping with Zora?'

"Of course. C'mon over, tables are almost impossible to get at this hour." She
led them to a booth where a taller woman sat with her boots on the table and a
flat-crowned hat down over her face. At the footsteps, she pushed the broad brim of
the hat up with one lazy finger.

"Look what the dakkos dragged in," she commented, sitting up. "I heard the Hutt caught up with you." She took a better look at Luke. "Nice."

"You two still legit?"

"Always. Arrests cut into profits. Oh, you've got to see the mods on
Snowstar! The new sensor suite will turn you green. And we upgraded her hyperdrive matrix. But the new shield generators on my ship--"

"My ship," put in Zora.

"Anyway, we're at Bay 62. We'll be in port a while. Doing three runs a week for a religious order. The artisans make the stuff on the other side of the planet, and we bunnyhop it here. Steady work and legal. How about you and the Wook?" Talla's com beeped. "Oh, that's our boss. The workmen are here. We have to go. Come by 62, if you want. If you feel touristy you should see this temple we're taking stuff to. Clear skies!" She half dragged Zora out of the booth, and they
were gone in the crowd.

"Interesting friends," Leia commented, punching her order into the table.
"Does her mouth come with an off switch?"

"They're all right. And no, it doesn't. Doesn't have volume control either."

"I want to see their temple." Luke said suddenly.

"You sense something about it?"

"No, just curious. I wonder if it's old enough to have any information on the Jedi. That's one of the reasons we're here."

"If we scoot, we can probably catch the girls before they're unloaded." Leia cancelled her order as Han stood up. "Let me call Chewie on the way there and let him know."

They arrived at Bay 62 as Zora was supervising the last crates' unloading.

"Whatcha carrying this trip?"

"Some huge paintings and a couple boxes of rocks." Talla came down the ramp, her sandy hair wildly askew and her coverall sweat-stained.

"The Tears of War are holy objects!" protested the leader of the off-load crew.

Luke looked grave and said "May I see one?"

Zora tossed him a glossy black stone the size of a credit. He flinched as it landed in his palm.

"What is it?" he asked.

"Analysis says it's just volcanic glass. You must be a Force-sensitive. Only they react to Tears of War like that." Zora scrutinized him closer. "The worshippers place six of these stones around them while they pray. They say it enhances communication."

Talla introduced them to the lead architect, demanded a tour and kept a running commentary of the basic tenets of the religion, all without apparently taking a breath.

"Happy landings," said Zora, dragging her partner bodily back into the ship.

As they walked to the huge structure, Leia was amazed to see workmen cutting stone blocks with metal tools. She dropped back to ask the architect who was giving the tour.

"We use the tools of our fathers to honor their memory and beliefs. It slows the work, requiring us to put forth effort. The effort is as much a part of the temple as the stone. If we used lasercutters and grav-lifters, the temple would be built, but it would not be holy." Leia nodded, remembering something similar from the Alderaanian harvest festivals.

The Temple was a domed cylinder of red and black stone, forming a rotunda. On a pedestal in the very center stood a marble statue of a human male. Eight meters tall, and exquisitely carved, it depicted the Warbringer, dressed in the native fashion. The visitors looked at the idol with curiosity, but nothing more. Here and there, a workman knelt, six black stones around him, praying for inspiration.

Luke was deep in discussion with a priest, asking for permission to search their records. Once granted, he spent most of the evening skimming. Han, bored out of his mind, had wandered in and out, reading over his shoulder, and pestering Leia until she snapped at him. The pair had finally decided to walk to a nearby restaurant and get some dinner. Luke was grateful for the peace and quiet. He had found a couple of references to Jedi intervention and assistance, and downloaded them onto a datafleck. The images would bear deeper scrutiny later.

Han and Leia reappeared, carrying plass bags that smelled delicious. Luke joined them for an impromptu picnic supper on the lawn and told what he had found and
that there was no more to be seen. With one last look at the statue, they returned to the Falcon.

A month later, New Republic governance established, and off to a good, if hesitant, start, the Falcon lifted. Leia was confident the newly arrived advisors would be all the help needed.

Luke had added the images to his growing file of Jedi lore, most of it gleaned from obscure backwaters like this. The main temple on Coruscant had been razed decades before, and all official records purged. He sat in the tech station chair, turning the black stone over in his hand.

"Your friend wouldn't let me return it." They had seen Zora and Talla a few times, but both women refused to take back the stone, saying it was a gift, a souvenier of the visit.

"Zora's sweet on you. It's pretty," Han commented. "Seemed to give you quite a jolt though."

"Touch it," Luke said to Leia.

She stretched out a hesitant finger and touched the rock. "A little tingly," she said. "Feels nice. Why did it shock you so badly?"

"It felt like someone had dropped a hot hyperdrive capacitor in my hand. I think the difference is more training and attunement than sensitivity. One more thing to puzzle out, I guess. I'll take midwatch."

Deep in the midwatch, Han awoke, his face afire, and his mouth aching. He brought up the lights and looked in the mirror. The blush was receding from his face, but a bruise was forming across his lips. The dream clung to him and would not fade. The psychosomatic bruising from the Warbringer's biting farewell kiss was less disturbing than the promises the god had made. The last thing he needed was an uninvited local deity romping through his dreams.

He padded silently through his ship on bare feet. The old girl had never sounded better, thanks to the unstinting work of the New Republic techs. A honking snore came from Chewbacca's cabin.

Han paused at the door of Leia's cabin, the Warbringer's words still ringing in his ears. "Anything you want. Anyone you want. Him. Her. Both. Anyone." He told himself he was just checking on her, and peeked in. She was asleep on her back, one arm thrown over her face in a warding gesture.

He returned to the corridor and leaned against the bulkhead, calming his body, and trying not to dwell on how easy it would be to go in, wake her with kisses and make love to her until the nightmares left them both. The more he tried to control
himself, the more his mind caressed the soft curves of her body.

Shaking the notion away, he walked to the cockpit. Luke was meditating lightly,
watching the streaky stars of hyperspace. Han paused as he ducked in, taking
in the young man's profile, dark against black. Once, he would have grumbled, not unkindly, about dozing at the controls. In the year since he had been rescued, Han had seen the many changes in Luke. He moved as if the weight of an entire system was on his shoulders. The majority of the weight was self-assumed, but there were always those who wanted something of the last of the Jedi. Not all were benign.

He wondered where the callow boy, all shaggy blonde hair and intense wonder, had gone. Was he still in there, and could he be brought back out? Han realized he was staring, and wondered what the short hair would feel like under his hands,
whether the artificial hand would feel the same as the real one on his skin.

"Still quiet," Luke said, startling him. "I think the starboard equalizer is a little out of phase though."

How long had he been standing there, just staring? And why this sudden onset of desire? Han pushed the questions down hard.

"17.9 minutes without a word must be some sort of record for you."

"Don't read my mind. It's not polite."

"What?"

"Never mind. I'm up, and I don't want to be. Has your rock revealed the secrets of the universe yet? Or given you the comm frequency for divine intervention?"

Luke grinned, the first real one in months, a pleasant change form the tightly controlled smile he usually showed. "Not a peep. It's just what Zora said, a piece of volcanic glass."

"Get some sleep, Luke. I'm up and I'll stay up."

"Are you okay?" Luke was looking hard into his face. The nearness of the blue eyes and close quarters of the cockpit were intoxicating, and Han felt the blood begin creeping back into his ears and cheeks.

"Weird dream."

Luke left without another word, but Han somehow knew he was measuring the bruise, and wondering about its cause. Han did a thorough check of the instrumentation,
took a nav reading and settled in to watch the stars and think.

The sudden onset of intense desire bothered him. He had loved Leia, and they had found comfort together for a time after Endor. But now, she was working harder than ever trying to establish the New Republic. He was just driving the bus. This
trip was a busman's holiday for Leia, who had joined Luke on this Jedi quest as an excuse to extend invitations to some outlying systems to join the Republic. The young man sat for hours listening to Chewbacca tell stories of life fifty and a hundred years before, long before the Empire, when the Jedi were still a force
for good. And where was this wanting for Luke coming from? He hadn't wanted a man for years. He shifted as his gunbelt suddenly became uncomfortable.

Leia curled on her side, the nightdress clinging to her. A large hand fell heavily on her waist and slowly slid over her hip. She stirred and snuggled back, closer to her lover. "Mmmm, that's nice, Han."

"So sorry to disappoint you, Princess," a strange voice said. She sat up and looked at the man in her bed. The Warbringer was extremely handsome in normal human shape, but she still moved as close to the bulkhead as she could, even though it did not move her out of his reach.

"Warbringer," she acknowledged.

"So many planets, so many names, so many faces." He shifted through a variety of features, dark hair and fair, dark eyes, red eyes, all handsome, all different, yet all the same. One made the Princess catch her breath.

"Malkan!"

"That's a name I haven't heard for millennia. Not since the Alderaani renounced organized violence."

"For what good it did us."

"Men die, cattle die, worlds die, even the gods die, sweet Leia. When my last worshipper dies, so too shall I. But not just yet. Did you like my new temple?"

"It's very nice. So why are you here rather than there?"

For answer, he kissed her softly, black eyes dancing with mockery. "No silly questions, Princess. How long is it since your lover came to your bed? Half
a year? More? And command is the loneliest burden of all."

The full lips were too close to her own and she buried her hands in the jet-black curls that cascaded over his shoulders to pull him down to meet her mouth. The kiss was knowing, and bitter. She pulled away, but found herself returning to
the darkness of the war-god's embrace.