My heart thumped as I laid in wait for her. For all of the threats Baras threw at me, all of his mockery for the feelings I had developed for her, I could not shake the weakness that had settled into my bones at the thought of knowing she was near.

It had been many nights that I had laid in waiting like this, trembling at the thought of her. And it had been many less nights – too few, in fact – that I had done so with not only nerves but also anticipation.

Now, the nerves had taken on a sort of sickening, nauseated quality. In fact, the nausea seemed to overtake me in an entirely unpleasant way. I felt physically ill.

My palms were sweaty, making my pristine military gloves uncomfortable. My knees buckled, and the black, polished regulation military boots at my feet showed the shadow of what had once been a scuff. I noted this in the back of my head, eyeing it strangely and with dry, numb eyes. She had scuffed it once, stepped on it with her shoe doing…something. I couldn't remember. That bothered me, that I couldn't remember.

Before I'd ever met her, it was the shoe-scuffing that would have annoyed me. But since I'd met her, things like this had seemed less significant. Things like this did not appear to matter as much. Not as much as the prospect of a lasting peace between the warring factions in whatever way possible, if for no other reason than to find an excuse to stop fighting and to relax. To be safe. To serve without the imminent threat of death. I wanted to see the Empire win, that much was true. I wanted the Empire to succeed. My entire life had been dedicated to it. I was nothing but dedication and efficiency and supplication to those who were my betters. I was mechanically precise, a genius with mathematics and tactics. I was endlessly beneficial to her. I'd known that.

But my emotions had gotten carried away. What I had done was wrong, Baras had said. I'd gotten mixed up with someone who was over my head, in a situation that was above my pay grade. I'd allowed these emotions to cloud my judgment, to muddy the one, true path. It was a simple mistake, foolish, and I was ashamed. Ashamed of my mistakes, of my commitments.

Of my desires and my feelings.

Or...I said to myself that I was. Baras had commanded me to be ashamed, so, ever dedicated, I tried to be for his sake.

But the conviction I'd once had about so many other things was not in this. I confided this to my Lord Baras, that I was not truly ashamed, no matter how hard I tried to be. He just told me that this feeling as natural. I was "recovering" from my episode, my "mistake."

But if this was right and she was a mistake, why did I feel so physically ill? Why did I want to flee?

I thought of her. Of the conviction of my duties. Of my resolve. I thought of what was right, not what I wanted. I served the greater good. My needs and desires were to be sacrificed.

Service was its own reward. I'd told her this so many times.

But this sacrifice? Where was the reward for this? Somehow, it didn't feel so bright now, the reward less obvious. Incomprehensible.

My resolve slipped momentarily, and I tried hard to gather it, to brace myself. I thought of the future, her future. The thought sent a chill into my gut, swirling then to my extremities, rendering them cold. My eyes, a little dizzy and wavering now, wandered back down to the faded scuff on my boot.

I'd cleaned it off only the day before. I was alone in the ship, alone in my quarters, and I'd scrubbed at it with a fury, nearly grunting with the effort of removing the mark she'd made on the otherwise perfectly in check uniform shoes. By the end, I realized I was crying. Being a man, being a military man at that, this had driven me to a fierce anger that could not be shaken.

I'd wanted to spend the last night with her. I'd wanted to covet her body with my mouth and my hands, gyrating hard and slow inside of her warm, wet center until she exploded with ecstasy. I'd wanted to indulge her every lust, every passion, every morsel of love and desire that she deserved, to drown her in pleasure until she was so exhausted she would fall asleep. I'd wanted to finally take her in my arms one last time, whispering into her ear as her dark hair billowed over her face.

But I couldn't look at her. Instead, I'd opened a bottle of ale from some backwater planet, something Vette had bought for me a while back that I'd hidden away with feigned disdain, and I'd guzzled the entire thing. Zawil had found me, of course, worried that I was alone in my room and instead not in hers. Worried for her husband, for her mate, for her confidante and friend.

I'd waved her away last night. Cruelly. With disdain. She'd looked at me with those normally very happy eyes sadly, but she left silently, nodding as she went. That was my first dose of incredible guilt.

I'd felt guilt a lot in the last two weeks. I'd learned of Baras' dark task then. My wife, ever attentive, did not fail to notice this. The stresses of the war were taking their toll, I'd told her when she'd asked. We all were tired. She needed rest, and so did I.

We'd made love once between that time and now, and it had not been pleasant. Instead, it was agony.

She saw this in my eyes, and – breathlessly – took my face, stilled my hips, and asked me if I was okay. Her eyes, half-lidded before, suddenly seemed alert, as if the thought of my pain truly bothered her.

That floored me. She worried for me. If only she knew…

Yes, I'd insisted, barely restraining tears from my eyes. Of course everything was okay. I was maybe just a little bit tired, and I meant no disrespect but just wanted to finish with her so that I could go to sleep.

This wounded her, and I had to look away. She noticed. I felt her recoil after she'd allowed me the mercy of an end, and even as chills washed over my body, I felt sick. She didn't huddle next to me on the bed we shared after the end. She dressed slowly, meticulously slowly, and I just watched her, feeling nauseous. Then, she curled her knees to her chest and hugged them there, her back to me, silent and sad.

I yearned to reach out to her then, to take her in my arms. I wanted so badly to apologize. But I couldn't.

After that, she began to eye me with confusion and pain. And I ached for her when she looked at me. I dreamt about her with a longing even more intense and fervent than when I'd first realized my infatuation with her. My blood would rush down to my length and I would ache for it to be satisfied, ache for the intimacy that was so present, so there in front of me and so out of my own reach.

No, I thought to myself. I had to stop. I had to do this. Baras commanded it, and I owed him everything. If cruelty was what was demanded, this was what I would do.

I heard her walk in. She was alone this time, alone and, I could hear, totally bewildered. She walked slower, hesitantly.

"My lord," I began.

My voice sounded low and tired. I felt sadness, but I forced the cruelty out. I tried hard to channel the voice I'd felt the night before. It was difficult.

I felt my insides begin to melt and my heart beat quickened even further in the silence. I glanced over my shoulder only once, but my eyes only found her shoes. I could not look at her and resumed speaking to the far wall.

"I could not leave you to this fate without showing you the respect of being here to witness it."

I'd expected fury at the mere possibility of what I was saying. I wanted my implications to be impactful. I'd wanted her to interject, to say something witty. She was always so predictably cavalier. It was her way. It was what I had loved about her.

But instead she hesitated. For a long time. This wasn't expected.

When she finally spoke, I closed my eyes. Hearing her voice killed me inside, especially when I heard the knowledge in it. She knew what was happening, all at once. That was the worst. She knew it.

"What fate?" she asked quietly. "What are you talking about?"

Suddenly, I wanted to validate everything that had happened. I didn't want to be ashamed of it or of myself or my career. I didn't want her to think I had used her. I didn't want her to think that I was ashamed of her, and I closed my eyes tightly. No matter what Baras commanded, I could not do this.

I would follow his will, but I could not be ashamed of the way I felt.

I didn't want her to think that she was inadequate, and I was washing my hands of her.

The truth could not have been further from this.

"I have enjoyed your company and companionship, my lord," I whispered to her.

I didn't want to see her wince, but I saw it in my mind's eye as clearly as if she were standing in front of me.

I finally whispered,

"That's why this is so hard."

She said nothing again. I couldn't take it anymore. I flipped around and I saw her. In all her beauty. In all of her intoxicating glory. I lapped her up with my eyes as she was one last time.

Her hair was a dark red color, so dark and so red that it almost looked black. She was a Zabrak, so this was normal. Zabrak hair could be like that. She had dull horns, two in the front, two on either side. They were dull and hardly noticeable. If not for the color of her skin and the tattoos on her face, they would have almost seemed insignificant.

Her hair was tucked back behind her ears as it always was, connected in the back by the pin her sister had given her. I wished for her to tug at the pin and let the hair loose, for it to fall to the tips of her collarbone. Even now, her hair was so lovely. It matched her skin perfectly, it being just a shade too red to be human. Her tattoos, a dark brown, covered her mouth, nose, and eyes, twisting intricately into the hair on her head. It almost looked like the insignia of the Empire. I'd told her that once. Her body, toned as ever but now hunched and withdrawn, already told me she'd been beaten.

Don't look at her, I commanded myself. Just get this done.

"It pains me," I said breathlessly, "but this entire scenario is a ruse. There's no martial law and no special signal emitter."

I heard the wavering in my voice, and so did she. I finally willed myself to give her the dignity of looking into her eyes, and what I saw there took my breath away. I couldn't think. I refused to acknowledge what I saw. I had to continue, I had to.

No, I had to get a rise out of her. Part of me wanted her to be angry. Part of me had expected it, willed it. At least sadness. At least…something.

She was silent there, facing me.

I took a shaky breath. We both heard it. My resolve was slipping. So I turned on that cruelty again. I had to tug at my own resolve to penetrate hers.

"Baras is my true master," I spat at her, scowling. "He had me lure you here to have you killed."

And there it was. I breathed but didn't retain air. She breathed and seemed to be in the same position. I stared into her eyes with that scowl, and for the first time, the edges of her eyes squinted together. Her mouth became taut. She bit her lip and recoiled just in the way she had during our last moment of intimacy.

"But I…"

She almost looked…afraid.

"I thought what we had was…"

I held my breath, and I was sure if I stopped breathing my heart would explode.

"I thought what we had was real," she finally managed, searching in my eyes for love.

I couldn't give her any, so I looked away. I looked away even as my heart exploded with professions I knew I would never get the chance to voice. I'd never felt so strongly about anybody or anything. Even the Empire seemed to pale in the face of what she meant to me. On still, quiet nights, we'd discussed running away to someplace far.

She'd even made the suggestion to run to some remote Republic world, just to live in obscurity. Our children would be pawns of the Empire, otherwise, and while this had once brought me great pride, she had suggested - truly and for the first time - what would happen if the child was Force sensitive.

It would be taken away to be tortured and hardened, just as she had been. Humiliated, and likely raped, if she was a young girl. Harassed and beaten habitually for being a "half-breed," Zawil had said.

The thought had changed my perspective, and I closed my eyes again to try to block it out.

I love you, my thoughts insisted on saying. I love you. I love you. Get away from me because I love you.

But she didn't. Instead, she just pressed on.

"I thought we cared about each other," she whispered quietly. "I thought…I thought you cared about me."

I do! my insides shrieked. Her words tore at my cruelty, and my resolve didn't win. I began to pace, shaking, sure my knees would force me to collapse, sure that if I wasn't squeezing my hands behind my back that she would see them shake and know how precarious my thinning resolve was.

"I…didn't want to choose between the two of you," I managed to admit. "But he's forced my hand, and I…" I lost myself for a moment. "…I must side with him." My voice almost became pleading. "Without him, I would have no career."

And that was what really mattered, Baras had told me. She was nothing. Emotions were fleeting. The Empire, my duty - that was forever. I'd given my whole life for my career. She had to understand that. This had to be more important. It had to.

Didn't it?

But she said nothing, and I began to feel anger now, irrational and driven, but anger all the same. I wanted her to lash out. To react. Did I mean so little? Did any of this?

"Once you're gone," I proceeded, feeling weaker by the second, "your crew will either join Baras with me or be killed."

"You won't touch them," she finally snapped, her first sign of anger.

And I jumped at it.

"We shall see how long they last against Baras' fury," I quipped back with a snarl.

I found her eyes. Something vaguely familiar had trickled in. Despite having wished it only moments before, I now only wished it gone. I felt so much remorse already that it hurt.

"I really thought you were smarter than this," she said with only a tint of rage.

It was a low blow, and she knew it. She was toying with my ego, making this hard.

The irrational anger exploded out of my mouth.

"I'll show you how smart I am!" I snarled.

I had to demonstrate the depth of my betrayal, the thoroughness of my trickery. My tone took on an almost mocking quality, and I didn't know why. I didn't want to sound that way.

I wanted to rush to her, drop to my knees, and beg her forgiveness.

"After all this time observing you in battle, I have exhaustively noted your strengths and weaknesses."

I showed her my battle droids with the simple press of a button. My hands did shake, and she saw it. My knees did buckle, and she saw it. My eyes began to water, and I looked back at the metal beasts to hide it from her.

"I calculate a near zero percent chance of their failure," I said breathlessly.

She didn't hesitate now.

"Sounds grim," she said. "I know how thorough you are, Quinn. I'm sure this will be my greatest test."

I choked at this. What was I doing?

What was I doing? Why was I doing this?

But I couldn't stop it. It was done. I was committed. She'd be gone. Her body would be all that was left.

"If I'm right…" I finally managed. "It will be your last."

I heard her breathe. I heard something that caused a tear to fall out of the corner of one of my eyes. She could never see, and I had to hide it. These emotions were vile. Baras had said so. They were misleading me, making me weak.

But I couldn't help it. Regret was already part of the equation. I was beginning to see that it would always be.

"I'm sorry it's come to this, my lord," I finally whispered, breaking.

For a long time, she said nothing. My finger hovered over the activation button, and just as I tensed it to press down, I heard her whisper, tears choking her voice,

"Me too."