Chapter 16

The throb of the music carried out into the street, where a long line of people fidgeted, some of them giving Quinn glares as he walked past them to the door. The bouncer looked him up and down as he approached, an expert assessment which took no more than a mere fraction of a second. Quinn stopped and waited for him to pull out his identification scanner, but instead he just lightly tapped his temple and nodded for Quinn to pass. That's when Quinn noticed that the man had a cybernetic eye, no doubt already equipped with whatever device he needed to do the job.

Quinn entered the nightclub and was immediately sucked into a dizzying array of sound and light, so disorienting that he had to pause to take it all in. The room was vast and multi-storied, with enormous light displays that created rhythmic patterns from floor to ceiling. The air sparkled as it caught the spinning lights, created from a haze of heat that made it difficult to pick out anyone among the crowd. How was Quinn supposed to find Morda here?

After working his way through the mass of bumping bodies, Quinn found a set of spiral stairs. He followed it and had just reached the top step when he felt a hand fondling him from behind. He nearly tripped. He turned and found the owner to be a smartly dressed, but clearly drunk, young woman. She grabbed ahold of a pillar to steady herself as she reached the end of the stairs, leaning too close as she topped the landing. Quinn took her hands, which were already snaking over him, and removed them, shaking his head. She pouted and swayed on her feet as she shifted to eye someone behind him.

Quinn turned and saw Vette waving him towards her from a spot near the balcony edge. She mouthed something that looked suspiciously like "Over here loverboy." Quinn was too relieved to see her to even feel that peeved.

"Follow me!" She practically had to yell in Quinn's hear to be heard.

Morda had a small private room on the top floor, with glass walls and its own balcony overlooking the main dance floor. Morda rose from the table where she was sitting as soon as Quinn entered the room. She smiled brightly at him when he leaned in to kiss her.

"Happy birthday, my lord."

"Thank you, Quinn. Now where's that present you promised me?" Her tone was playful, but her eyes flicked purposely towards his empty hands. Quinn had been hinting about his birthday gift to her for weeks, giving her nothing but evasive non-answers. He was quite enjoying her exasperation.

He stepped close to her shoulder, running a hand down her arm and sliding his fingers discretely around one her wrists. He pressed his lips to her ear.

"That's for later this evening."

She turned and met his eye, bestowing a smile on him that momentarily made him forget to breathe.

He had spoken truth about his desire to spent a private evening alone with her, but that was not the only gift he had in mind. He was assaulted by a brief pang of nerves, which he attempted to quiet with another deep breath.

"Where's Pierce?"

Vette spoke up to answer him. "He showed up with some Rattataki. She lasted barely ten minutes before she got them both thrown out for starting a fight with some guy twice her size." Vette shrugged and rolled her eyes.

"Was she winning?" Jaesa looked up from her drink, showing what appeared to be genuine curiosity.

Vette tilted her head in thought. "Yeah, I'd say she was. Pierce was clearly infatuated with her."

Morda laughed. "She sounds like just his type."

Quinn seated himself. A wandering droid came by with a fizzbrew for Morda, so Quinn ordered a flask of hard cider. From under the table, Morda's hand moved across his knee and settled there. Quinn contented himself with observing the play of light and color across Morda's hair as she laughed with Vette and shared stories with Jaesa. Morda was more relaxed and happy than ever Quinn had seen her and it was having infectious effect on all the crew. Even Jaesa gave Quinn only a minimum of predatory looks before growing distracted by something - or someone - beyond their glass windows. Vette shared an animated story that drew a laugh from everyone. Inevitably, however, a particular song came on and Morda's stood up from the table, grabbing Quinn by the arm and giving him a tug.

"Let's get out there and dance."

Jaesa, Quinn noticed, was quietly slipping away, probably to go harass some unsuspecting Imperial, but Vette was bouncing up and down like a little girl, eager to get on the dance floor.

Quinn shook his head. Morda crossed her arms and frowned at him.

"I always promised I'd get you to dance at a cantina, Quinn. I want to see you loosen up."

"Come on, Morda," Vette grabbed Morda by the arm, a surprisingly familiar gesture Quinn noted. She shot Quinn a grin. "Let's show him how it's done."

"I'm coming back for you later," Morda said. Vette was quickly pulling her away. "Count on it."

Quinn nursed his drink and scanned the dance floor far below, trying to spot Morda or any of the others. He was reluctant to make a fool of himself out there. His eye found Morda in the crowd. The natural sway of her hip, the ease with which she captured the essence of the music in her movements, showed an inhibition that Quinn simply could not summon himself. His trained restraint prohibited such an open display of energy and innuendo. Something in the music's deep, primal beat, however, awoke an itch inside him. He was transported to a memory that he had not revisited in some time, of the sensual image of Morda in her airy dress, dancing with him cheek to cheek at her mother's party. How easily his mind conjured up the sweet scent of her perfume curling around him and the feel of her warm skin beneath his hand. He had thought then that he was simply out of practice in such situations, but now he could clearly see how smitten he had been.

Vette bounded into the room to take a few sips of the drink she had left behind. Her cheeks glowed and she gave him a genuine smile.

"This is the best day of my life, Quinn."

"It is?"

She grew serious as she pulled her holopad out of a back pocket. She tapped it a few times and then then slid it slowly across the table towards Quinn. "Look what happened earlier today," she said.

Quinn picked it up. It was an official document, signed he saw, with Morda's sprawling signature. Quinn read over the opening paragraph several times. As of today, Vette was no longer a slave in Morda's service. She was free.

Quinn stood and handed her back the holopad. "Congratulations are in order." Did he really mean that? Yes, he realized, he did. He held up his glass.

She beamed and clinked hers with his. "Thank you Quinn."

He took a sip. "What happens now?"

"I get a regular salary, that's what!"

Quinn smiled, relieved to hear that Vette had made no mention of leaving. "I'm glad you'll be staying on the crew."

Vette smirked, then huffed and gave Quinn a dubious look. "Are you really?"

"I am."

"You're a pain in the butt Quinn. But you're ok."

"Thank you...I think."

Vette laughed, her lekku tossing behind her.

Morda's voice carried into the room, before Quinn even saw her. "You two are having way too much fun without me." She strutted in with a smile. "Are you coming now Quinn?"

For a moment, Quinn hesitated. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Vette shoot him a curious look.

"No, I'm afraid not," he said.

Morda sighed, looking sincerely disappointed, which gave Quinn a pang of guilt.

"All right then." She held open the glass door for Vette and walked away.

Quinn jumped up, swinging open the door and following her out.

"Wait." His voice was lost among the pounding music and din of crowd chatter. Boldness, perhaps prodded by the now empty flask of cider, spurred Quinn into action. He leapt forward and reached for Morda's arm, calling her again, not "my lord," but "Morda." She turned, her eyes searching his face, more attuned to his subtle expressions now that voice communication was compromised. Perhaps she saw earnestness there, or regret, or maybe even the anticipation which was buoying him now. A slow smile crept across her face and she stepped closer.

Quinn took her hand in his. "I would like to dance with you," he said into her ear, "but it needs to be a dance that I know." He pulled back, checking to see if she had understood.

"Lead on." She squeezed his hand.

He pulled her along behind him, leading her down the stairs and all the way to the main dance floor. The late hour meant it was not as packed as it had been earlier. Quinn stepped up and turned to Morda. In the multi-colored lights, her skin was dark, only the bright red of her eyes visible among the shadowed contours of her face.

Quinn leaned into her ear. "Remember the first time we danced together, at your birthday party?"

A smile broke across her face, revealing her white teeth. "Of course."

"Think of this as...a variation."

He held her close and started simply, moving smoothly into the traditional dance positions that every Imperial learned at the academy. Morda slid comfortably into his arms, having grown up in culture where the importance of social gatherings made these moves second nature. The music here was anything but traditional, yet the rhythm was all that was needed. As a Sith, Morda was fit and practiced in many acrobatic combat moves. This translated well to dance, Quinn saw. Her movements were fluid and well controlled, and she responded surprisingly well to his lead. In truth, Quinn had always enjoyed these dances. The subtle communication between partners, the required trust and cooperation, spoke to him of a more civilized era.

He held his hand firmly against the curve of her lower back and guided Morda into a turn, crossing their positions. She feathered her fingers lightly against his collar, taking advantage of their split second of closeness before he gently swung her away and pulled her back again. Her body touched his as she pressed herself closer to him than was really necessary, but he did not feel the need to correct her. Her fingertips caressed his shoulder and she brushed her cheek against his.

"Free spin and return," he spoke into her ear.

She let go and stepped back, whirling in place, her short dress flaring briefly around her hips. He caught her as she returned to position and guided her a few steps back, her feet hesitating slightly, but recovering quickly to work in tandem with his. Her lifted her arm, and she moved effortlessly into a spin, which he cut short in order to face her away from him, guiding her into a quick walk-step that segued into another half-spin to return her to position.

"Fall away," he mouthed against her ear. He let go and she stepped away, her chest heaving and her smile both exhilarated and breathless.

He improvised a few more moves, and was pleased when Morda submitted to his lead with ease, responding to his subtle control with almost uncanny foresight. Perhaps, he realized, her connection to the Force gave her the ability to anticipate his moves in truth.

They were attracting a small crowd of onlookers, Quinn noted. The dance floor was emptying, and Quinn took advantage of the extra space to lead her out towards the middle, giving them more freedom to move. She touched her palm to his, her hips swaying as her steps brought her body in line to complement with his. He slid a hand over the swell of her hip, knowing full well that he had long ago crossed the boundary of acceptable partner contact for this dance. As she turned to face him, her eyes locked with his, fiery and bright, and for a moment Quinn thought he might have understood the euphoria Morda sometimes exhibited after a particularly intense fight. His skin felt hot and flush and he wondered if she could feel the tightening burn of desire that was flooding through him at the sight of her now.

He curled his fingers around hers and led her into a quick turn. When her body spun into contact with his other stationary arm, he supported a hand behind her back and slid his leg behind hers. Could he attempt a dip? Was he crazy to even try? She understood his intention and fell back, allowing him to dip her towards the floor in a fluid motion with only the tiniest hint of uncertainty.

Was it the cider or merely the night's momentum spurring him on? He pulled her up, spinning her slowly and drawing her into a kiss. There was an answering roar of approval from the crowd, and given the volume of response, Quinn wondered just how large a following they had gathered. They slowed to a stop and Morda held his face in her hands, prolonging the kiss. When she at last broke away, she swayed on her feet, looking disoriented and giddy.

Most of the nightclub guests had surrounded the edge of the dance floor, clapping and whistling. Quinn felt a sudden heat warming his face, but he turned and nodded politely to the onlookers. How he could deny that their applause felt good?

As they left the dance floor, Quinn saw Vette in the crowd, her eyes wide as she mouthed the word, "damn." With Morda in tow, he swept past the crowd in search of a quiet retreat. He found a lounge in the back of the club with a plush carpet, dim recessed ceiling lights, and few occupants. In the center of the room was an impressive diorama of a waterfall amidst the jungle flora of Dromund Kaas, with real flowing water and simulated mist. Morda whirled lightly on her feet, planting her hip against the low wall surrounding the diorama. The smile she gave him made his heart skip a beat.

"Well," she said, studying him through lowered lashes, "I was supposed to be the one teaching you to dance, but it seems you have turned the tables on me."

"Perhaps we should do this more often."

"Gladly." She patted the vacant spot next to her and Quinn sat. For a moment they existed in silence, listening to the quiet gurgle of the little waterfall.

Quinn knew that if ever there was a time for the speech he had prepared for Morda tonight, it was now. He clasped his hands and tried to quell the jitters twittering about in his stomach. What if she said no? He would stay and continue to serve her of course. The thought was like a stab in his heart however. She was a Sith, and from a wealthy and influential Pureblood family. Would her family accept him? Was he foolish to think that such a woman would want to join her life to his?

"My lord…" He risked a glance at her. She was gazing off, looking content and thoughtful, her foot tapping unconsciously to the music that spilled from down the hallway. At that moment she didn't look like a Sith. Her strong cheekbones and smooth, ruby skin brought out her youth, and the contours of her dress accentuated the gentle swells of her nimble breasts and slender waist. Still, her limbs were muscular, perhaps the only indication that she was not what she seemed.

If he had children with her, they might not be human, Quinn realized. For a moment he pictured himself with a tiny red-skinned son or daughter bundled in his arms. That child would be just as much his as it was hers, no matter who it most resembled. My child, he thought. Our child. Yes, he would like that very much.

He took a quiet breath and began again. "Morda…"

Her eyes fell on him, uncanny and ethereal in the faint light. His courage faltered.

"I joined your crew two years ago today." Damn, that was not what he intended to say at all.

"Yes, you did, didn't you? That birthday was much better than I realized at the time." Her smile was wistful. She blinked suddenly. "It's your second year anniversary. Perhaps I should be giving you a present."

"My lord, that's unnecessary. I was merely reminiscing. We've been through a lot since then. Good and bad."

"It's those things that bind a crew together."

"True. But I was thinking more about us specifically. You and me."

Morda shifted her perch on the wall, angling her body towards his. "You are hard person to get to know." She gave him a playful smile. Then she leaned forward and touched her fingers to his chest, her voice growing serious. "But I know you now, Quinn. We make an exceptional team, you and I. And I trust you with my life."

For a moment, Quinn was rendered speechless. Never would have have hoped to receive such praise, and especially not after their rocky history. If ever he had doubted that he had earned her forgiveness, that doubt was surely washed away now.

"I am honored, my lord." He could not hide the emotion in his voice.

Morda sat back, her face breaking into a smile. "Let's get hitched Quinn."

"Ha! I...I should have known. It's difficult to hide anything from you." Had she seen his intentions in his mind?

"Wait, let me do this right." Morda stood and pulled Quinn to his feet. Then, to his shock, she dropped to one knee, taking his hand in hers.

"Marry me, Quinn." She searched his face, her eyes earnest and bright. "No, that's too much like an order. Let me try again." She grew still for a moment, thinking. "Malavai Quinn," she said, "Will you marry me?"

"I accept. Nothing would make me happier, my lord."

"If I'm going to be your wife, you need to get more comfortable with calling me Morda."

"Well, in that case…" Quinn tugged her back up. "I would like you to call me Malavai."

"How about just 'hubby?'"

Quinn laughed. "I know better than to take you seriously...wife."

"Alright then, Malavai it is."

In the early hours of the morning, Quinn walked out of the nightclub, hand in hand with Morda. They paused at the taxi overlook, where far across the canyon the morning sun was turning the ever present clouds a ruddy shade of orange. A new day was starting and Quinn had never been more hopeful, or more at peace, with his life.

The End

Author's Note:

Yes, that is Kailyo that I paired Pierce with. Heh heh. They are perfect for each other.

Thanks to Bioware's amazing writers for giving me a fun story to work with. The occasional fragments of dialogue that you may recognize from the game are course Bioware's and not mine.

Thank you so much to everyone who has been reading. I appreciate all your reviews, getting to chat with a few of you in PM, your faves and follows, and just knowing that you are there, reading. Yours words of encouragement really buoyed my spirits. I love to make up stories, I love to talk about writing, and I love to share that with other people. I write for fun, but also because I want to be a better writer. I appreciate hearing when I do something right, but I also recognize that there is still so much to be learned and I'm always trying to refine my skills the best I can.

Thanks for reading and being a fan of Star Wars along side me.

So I love analyzing stuff, especially characters and their motivations. Quinn's story has so much depth to it and I was excited to write about him, to get into his head and try to understand why he acts the way he does, especially since he has such a pivotal role to play in the SW class story.

Here's the author's note that I originally posted after Chap 15, if anyone is interested in reading more of my thoughts on the Quinn/Morda story.

When I first set out to write this story, there were a few things that I hoped to accomplish. I wanted to show how an unpredictable, passionate Sith could find love with someone who was seemingly her opposite, and I wanted the betrayal to make sense and not turn out to be the great tragedy that it most often was. I wanted my "happily ever after" damn it!

For the first goal, I knew that I had to show how Morda went from being reckless and selfish to someone who was more self-aware. I had to really shake things up for her in order for her to be able mature like she needed to do. I also wanted her romance with Malavai to feel like it had been earned. She wasn't going to be able to just seduce him and be done with it. She had to become someone that he could trust to make him willing to lower his defenses. I hope I managed to accomplish this.

As to the "Quinncident," in game I held back on my affection with Malavai for a long time, basically leaving the bulk of the romance for Corellia and after. By playing my game this way, the betrayal took on a different meaning. It wasn't the end of their relationship, it became the beginning. For Morda, it was her "Oh shit" moment, the one that really opened her eyes to finally seeing Malavai as a person instead of an object to be possessed. For Malavai it represented hitting rock bottom, where he stripped away the layers of protective emotional armor that he had built up (necessary for survival in a world run by Sith) and laid it all on the table. Here I am: the good, the bad and the ugly. When Morda accepts him, that is the catalyst which allows him to finally open his heart to her.

As to why Malavai went through with the betrayal, I wanted to show that he was, above all, a man of his word. I saw his betrayal as a selfless act, driven by desperation and duty, and his choice to sacrifice his own life ("I never expected your mercy"), was the only honorable solution to an impossible dilemma.

I hope I accomplished what I set out to do, at least to the extent that the story made sense and that you were "with me" as readers. Thanks for reading!