ORIGINS 3 - (FALLING)

Sylvana Lorrdain and Alison Sky

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

"Run that by me again," Hobbie said evenly.

Faace sighed, took a deep breath, and began speaking. "We don't know where she is. I sent Phaanan down, and he said her family doesn't live there anymore, and when he went to the hospital, they said she quit working there a while back. He tried to find word of her, but nobody'd seen her since shortly before you returned from visiting."

"That's impossible."

"But it's true. Hobbie, We did all we can, but nobody knows where Sylvana, or her family, has gone. I'm sorry."

Hobbie sighed, "Thanks for trying Faace."

The clone looked about to say something, before the Ralltiirian cut out.

Hobbie sighed and picked up the still holo he'd taken before leaving over month ago. Sad eyes looked back from the smiling face of a woman he'd somehow fallen for upon meeting.

"Where'd you go Sylvana?"

*******

Wes walked down the hall, hand in hand with Alison. He smiled, happy that he allowed himself to actually stop playing around and get serious with someone. Sure, Wedge would probably be putting him through the ringer tomorrow for asking his niece to commit to him, but Wes found himself actually caring for Alison. He'd do anything.

My gods, could it be that I'm actually in LOVE? he thought before pushing those thoughts away. He was just content with the here and now, and wished this night would never end.

Alison, meanwhile, just stared at the tiny ring on her finger. It was a delicate silver band, woven like a braid, bearing a simple black onyx stone in the centre. It wasn't what most would see as a 'commitment' stone, but black was her colour, and Wes said he'd wanted to be sure the ring matched her.

Gods, if I was still on Terra, the rest of the group would be thinking that I'd made my life into a Mary Sue storyline. I mean, Wes Janson! Up until the whole Boussh bit, they thought these guys were just characters. Now, it's real... but I wonder if it's a bit too real for me. Hell, I'll probably wake up finding out this is one of my clones playing a really bad prank on me... Alison blinked and looked up at Wes, trying to be sure he was the real one.

Wes looked back, and smiled. "Something wrong?"

Alison smirked. "You aren't some disgruntled clone seeking revenge on me, right?"

He burst out laughing, "Of course not!" He turned to face her, smiling his playboy smile. "You think a clone could learn to kiss like this?" he leaned over and kissed her gently, wrapping his arms about her.

They seperated, and Alison was silent a moment before speaking. "Well, they are cloned from you - so technically...."

Wes growled and picked her up, swinging her around in a circle. She laughed, her hair flying until Wes set her down. "Well, if I'm a clone, then I had better find a way to thank my maker for the wonderful life she has given me..." his smile turned into a seductive smirk, and Alison blushed.

At a bend in the hallway, not far from these two, Fes stood stock still. His eyes missed no detail. The kiss, their arms around each other, her laughter, Wes' grin... the ring glinting on her finger. Deep sadness pierced his heart. He was too late, rejected before he had even gotten up the evasive courage to speak the words that had long echoed in his mind. And now he could never speak those words - for Wes had declared himself, and she had accepted him. It would be wrong to say anything now.

Unsure whether either of them had seen him, and knowing it would be suspicious for him to hide himself if they had, he schooled his features to their usual 'innocence' and, as though his heart hadn't been torn beating from his chest to be thrown to the sarlacc, he kept walking as though he hadn't yet noticed them.

Even though that would mean for him to pass them. To... acknowledge them... together.

Alison saw a flash of red over Wes' shoulder and tilted her head. "Hey Fes. Nice night, huh?" Wes turned as well, smiling and holding her hand firmly.

He looked up reluctantly, hoping his feelings didn't show behind his orichalchum eyes. "Yes, a lovely evening, Milady..." he nodded to the other, a nod of gentleman's concession, "Wes."

"Fes," Wes replied, smirking. Part of him felt sorry for the red-headed youth. After all, he did have a crush on Alison that probably was going to come crashing down around him. But, when one walks the dangerous roads of love, they have to understand the pain of failure... as well as success.

Of course, Wes couldn't help gloating a bit that he had won.

The look given him didn't escape Fes' notice, but he said nothing more after nodding his acknowledgment to them both and continued on his way.

Alison watched him walk past, seeing something different in his eyes. She knew of the rivalry between the two men, but had never thought of Fes in that light. He was a great friend, a person to rely on, though sometimes a bit overprotective like a big brother. She loved him too... just not in that way.

She would definitely have to talk to him later. Right now, she just needed to get out of this dress, and maybe steal one more kiss goodnight. After all, if she was going to live a Mary Sue life, she might as well milk it for all it was worth.

*******

He didn't even bother to return to his room and change, and so soon found himself in the large near-empty room that held the TIE bomber he and Alison had been working on remodeling the past several months. He needed to do something, he just couldn't be still. And so, he was going to continue attempting to put the remodeled bomber to rights as best as possible for the woman he loved dearly, but could never have.

"Oh, this is wonderful," he spoke to himself as he grabbed up a toolkit and advanced upon the bomber. "But really, did I expect anything different? Why did I even think I had a chance?" he said to the empty room as he dropped the toolkit on the ground and began to take off his shirt. He was certain neither herself, nor any one else would be there tonight, so there was no reason for him to hide his scars.

"I should have known she'd like him better anyhow. He's good looking, he's a famous hero, he's... not a halfbred nothing like me," he threw his shirt down on the ground and tossed his lightsabre to land upon it.

He continued cursing his stupidity for the next hour while he worked at refitting the lower end of the engine, before jumping atop to get at the higher circutry. "Stupid Idiot," he muttered, still berating himself. "Thirty three," he grunted as he worked at the near frozen on bolts, "and not enough guts to," another grunt of frustration. "Tell a woman you love her," he gave one last, mighty pull and caught himself before he fell from atop the bomber, "Arraugh!"

He threw the covering aside to the ground and looked at the mess of wires he'd uncovered. "Whatever being put this together was more intent on thoughts of a plate of sithing spaghetti..." he muttered. Reaching in, he had to quickly pull his hand out again at a small spark, cursing the unknowably inept mechanic's abilities.

"Nothing going right," he muttered as he rubbed the sting from his palm.

Alison walked into the hangar bay and leaned against the doorjamb as she watched the, mostly, red headed man mutter at the port engine of her bomber. She was wearing her jumpsuit, her new ring absent from her hand, lest she lose it in the repairs.

She could see marks under the sweat glistening over his upper body, and wondered briefly what sort of culture he came from to tattoo himself so. She had figured Fes would come here, being upset. It was time to flush out just why. "Working hard?" she called into the room.

He wiped the sweat out of his eyes with one arm... then suddenly realised its bareness. "Yeah," he said hurriedly as he jumped down to land lightly beside his shirt and try to hurriedly put it on to hide himself.

"Care to tell me what the whole little thing going on between you and Wes is about?" she walked over to where he was dressing, logging that they were not tattoos but scars riddling his arms and upper body. She would have to ask about them later.

"What little thing, Milady?" he asked innocently, not looking up as his fingers fumbled the buttons.

"That little thing you two mutter back and forth about whenever the three of us are in the same room? The little thing that makes you throw firecrackers at Wes' feet? The little thing that made you look like your heart was ripped from your chest just over an hour back?"

His breathing stopped a moment as he froze. It would be wrong to say the reason now that she had accepted Wes' offer of commitment. "Milady..." he stopped as his voice caught. Why couldn't he be more knowledgeable in this sort of thing? He tried again, "Alison, I..." he sighed and avoided her eyes. "It's nothing you need to worry about anymore," he choked out finally as he moved quickly to leap back atop the fuselage to go back to work on the stubborn engine.

Coward! rang in his mind - and he reluctantly admitted that as truth about himself. He didn't deserve a woman like her, not if he couldn't even get up the courage to tell her how he felt before it had been too late.

Alison sighed, "You like avoiding questions, don't you?"

It wouldn't hurt to be honest, would it? "Only ones I am no longer at liberty to answer." Sithmonkies, he sounded like a Terran Lawyer, "I mean... oh, you know what I mean," he sighed as he worked - wondering if she actually did.

"Fes.... Do you like me?"

He hoped he wasn't blushing. "Of course I like you, Milady!" he chuckled nervously. "Why else would I be working on this blasted ship all the time, in stead of Raven's Omen?" There, that was safe... wasn't it?

"But not in any other way?" She knew that getting Fes to reveal an answer, especially about himself, was going to be difficult. However, she knew he was too honourable for his own good as well.

He sighed to himself. That question, put that way, could only have one answer. He couldn't lie to her, but he was not free to say. And so, he came up with a compromise. "Im meleth le, Alison," he spoke quiety, just loud enough she would not have to strain to hear him. "O i minui anann Im govad'le, ind im garo al'i maethor ind an pedo i peth le pul'an henia... nu le estel le an said adan." His face flushed furiously, nearing the colour of the darker strands in his mop of hair as he bent at that time to seemingly study the mess of wires before him.

She blinked. "What language was that?"

The language of a race hidden in storytellers dreams. The language of my Mother's people... "Not an important one," he said, finally, as he reached into the open panel to move a few wires aside. A large spark surprised him, causing him to lose his balance and fall to the ground, knocking the wind out of himself.

Alison quickly moved to kneel beside him. Gently, she ran a hand up his arm, for the first time feeling the ridges of all the scars she'd seen. "Are you hurt?"

A bolt of warm feeling rushed through him at her touch, but he pushed it aside as not rightfully his. He groaned slightly and made a face as he sorely sat. "Only my pride," he smiled and put a hand up to rub at the back of his neck.

She moved to sit on the floor beside him. "How did you get those scars?"

He tilted his head slightly as he looked at her, pain flashing hidden behind his eyes. "Haven't you used up your questioning quota for tonight?"

"I'm Intel... I get unlimited questions."

He sighed, "I amn't getting out of this, am I?" he said as he stood and moved to pick up the tools he'd knocked down in his fall. As he bent over, his necklace fell from beneath his shirt, the clasp having been damaged when he hit ground.

"I just want to know what is up with you. You come spying on me on my first mission, then come and get into these little tiffs with Wes, and now you're ignoring my questions! I want answers, Fes, and I want them now!"

Her words, the tone with which the said them, broke something in him. A faint red-orange glow surrounded him momentarily, then disappeared as mysteriously as it had appeared when he shoved his anger and deep running feelings beneath the cold pall that had covered them so very long. He spoke, then. Clearly, concisely, almost cold in the emotionlessness.

"Alright then, ask your questions and I promise I will answer every one of them." He turned and let his hands fall loosely to his sides as he looked at her, the only expression being the pain flickering behind his eyes.

She looked him in the eye, feeling the change that had come over the man. "Why are you doing this?"

"Because I need to," he said simply.

"You think you need to follow me? To fight with Wes?!" she crossed her arms.

"No, I..." he jammed a hand through his hair. "No, I think the question you wanted an answer for was why. The answer to both those questions is the same, and I told you that already. It's because I..." Love you, need to protect you. Because. . .. He shook his head and sighed, "I just want to be sure you're alright," he finished lamely with barely audible words as he turned away and kicked his lightsabre so hard, with all of his pent up emotion, that it flew to crash against the other end of the room.

Even then, he was unable to say the words he wanted most for her to hear and understand. Why? Because he no longer had the right, nor the freedom, to.

"You know, Fes, I think I know exactly what you're thinking. And maybe if you had enough guts to say it aloud, it might have done some good. At least Wes is man enough to speak about how he feels. I've been through a lot in my life, bud, and I don't like people dancing around bushes with me. So, until you're ready to talk, and actually **mean** what you say, and not just say it to appease me, then THAT is when we'll talk!" With that she turned to storm out of the hangar bay.

Quicker than thought, before a thought could even cross his own mind, he threw a large lightning sphere across the room, causing a mid-sized explosion as he sent his anger with it. In the same motion, he reached out with his other hand and snagged her arm, causing her to look at him.

"I am well aware of my inadequacy," he told her fiercely. "I may not be the brightest man when it comes to relationships, but I do know when I am not worthy of a woman's affection." He paused, the intensity in his eyes and tone of words almost tangeable. "Hear this, now, Milady Alison. I swear on my families' unmarked graves. If he, or any one else ever causes you harm, I will kill them."

His orichalcum eyes looked into hers, showing a barely bridled passion, only a moment. Then, he stole a, surprisingly gentle, kiss.

Turning her loose, he himself turned away from her, and began walking toward the small disaster he'd created only moments ago. Alison just watched him go, blinking. Part of her wanted to chase after him, apologize for being so harsh.

However, the angry part of her got over that quickly, and in stead she kicked at the ground in anger. A tiny klink of metal drew her attention to the floor, and she knelt to pick up a delicate silver-coloured necklace, something about it oddly familiar. She fingered the emerald, a seven-pointed star surrounding a strange symbol engraved upon it, then gently put the pendant in her pocket. She would give it back to him the next time they met, but she didn't dare leave it where it could be stolen.

He bent, reaching into the rubble to retrieve his, now very much broken, lightsabre.

One last look in his direction, then she turned and exited the way she'd come, heading back to her room to think over the days events.

He looked up briefly, only to see her disappear from the room. With a heavy heart, he made his way to his own quarters to spend a sleepless night wondering what he could have done better.

*******

"Nowhere?"

"Nowhere, Wes. It's like she disappeared off the face of Terra." Hobbie sat glumly at his desk.

"Well... we do happen to know someone who's really good at finding people on a galactic scale. One planet shouldn't be too difficult." Wes stood back, folding his arms.

"You're talking about Fes, aren't you."

"Yes - do you know anyone else better for a job like that."

"You do know if Sylvana found out, she'd skin me alive."

"So she doesn't find out. You want me to get him to just find her, or look out for her too."

"Wes...."

"What, I can handle you being glum, but this is rediculous!" Wes' comlink bleeped. "Janson."

Wedge's voice, not at all pleased, came over the other end. "In my office, now."

Wes blinked at the comlink, then shrugged. "Boss is calling, and that's my cue."

As his friend left, Hobbie simply sighed again.

*******

It was a very long, sleepless night. Toward dawn, Fes finally fell to sleep from exhaustion, waking in time to take his noon meal. As was his custom, he afterward made his way to the medical wards. No one else really knew why he went, but anyone who knew him knew he could be counted on being there every afternoon he was on planet, visiting with people who had no one to visit them and aiding them in their recoveries.

He had his reasons though, and having experienced so much death and distruction in his own life had brought him to a place where he felt that being with people as they recovered from their own tradgedies, or impotently succombed to them, was one of the best things he could do with his life. That... and protecting others as best he could.

Wes waited at the nurse's station, favouring his sprained arm, the souvenier from a brief afternoon talk with Wedge. Next time, don't mention Alison... he's still a bit tender on that subject, he thought to himself as he waited, humming a Taanabian dance tune.

Fes saw him as he entered, and knew he would have to walk past the Nurse's station on his way to the rooms of convalescence. When he noted Wes favouring his arm, he idly wondered what the man had done now. It was none of his business, he knew - however there was something he needed to do. No matter how it hurt his heart to admit it, he knew Wes had proven himself the better man.

He stopped before passing and turned to the Taanabian. "Congratulations."

At the sound of the low baritone voice, Wes jumped and turned quickly, clutching his hurt arm to his body. He relaxed slightly when he saw who it was. "Hey Fes, how you doing?" he spoke cautiously, not sure how the mostly-red-headed man would react to seeing him so soon.

"As well as can be expected," came the simple reply.

"That's good," Wes said, relieved that Fes wasn't going to kill him. "I was going to come look for you. Hobbie's kinda having a problem with his girlfriend right now, and I was wondering if maybe you can help me check on it... see if his girlfriend is okay."

He raised a crimson eyebrow, "What's wrong?"

"She's disappeared."

His heart hardened, "I'll find her," he promised. "Where was she seen last?"

"Well, that's the fun part. You ever hear of a backwater planet called Terra?"

He froze, the blood draining from his face. "T... Terra? The one the natives thereon call Earth?"

Wes nodded slowly, noting the expression on Fes' face. "I take it you've heard of it."

Memories of happiness destroyed, death's horror taking away anyone he was ever close to, flooded himself. He steeled himself, shoving the horror away from his mind, burying it beneath the ice-shield he'd built up years earlier. He'd left that planet, swearing never to return... and now.... "Something like that. Do you know where on?"

"The last time we saw her was in an area called New York. I can give you the coordinates."

He nodded, "I'll be ready to leave by evening - just get them, and a holo, to me by then." He started to turn, paused, then turned back as he folded his arms across his chest. "On condition."

Wes' injured wrist suddenly began throbbing more, "Yes?"

"On condition that you promise me you will look out for Alison. That you make her happy. I swear, if you let anything happen to her, I will make you wish you'd never been born. You break her heart or do anything to her, I will kill you. Understood?" His eyes flashed down at the shorter man, deadly serious.

Wes' eyes softened. "I would never do anything to hurt her," he said in all seriousness. "I'd be more afraid of her doing something to me!" he finished, trying to lighten the mood with a cautious laugh.

Solemnly, Fes nodded firmly, his mouth set in a grim line for more reasons than another heart could fathom. "Get the information to me by eighteen hundred," he told Wes as he turned and left the med-bay.

Wes watched him go, then sagged in relief. He turned back to the nurse's station and hit the buzzer, hoping someone would soon come and fix his wrist. While he waited, he pulled out his datapad and found the filed coordinates for Sylvana's Terran home, as well as a copy of Hobbie's holo of her, and quickly sent them to Fes.

The doors to the ward burst open, shortly followed by a voice bellowing across the room. "JANSON!!!!!!!"

Wes jumped again, and braced himself against the desk as he slowly turned. "Oh SITH!"

Garik "Face" Loran stormed up to him, glowering. "Who the SITH do you think you are?!" he hauled back and punched the shorter man straight across the jaw. "She is HALF your age!"

Wes fell to the ground with the blow, and held his injured arm up to defend himself. "Please, Face, I can explain!"

"Explain FAST!" Face told him menacingly as he reached down and hauled him up by the front of his flightsuit.

"Uhm... uhm... uhm..." Wes looked around for some help, but somehow all the doctors and nurses were inconveniently occupied with patients at this time. "Uhm... I think I'm in love with her?" Wes raised his eyebrows hopefully.

"THINK isn't an acceptable answer," Face growled as he shoved Wes up against a near wall. He shoved his face up close, glaring with a quirked eyebrow. "Try. Again."

Wes could see Face's fist drawn about a kilometre back, and his face fell in real fear. He knew he could take the other man on, easily, but that wouldn't look too good. He'd just have to take this, and let Alison care for him later. "Help..." he meeped, squeezing his eyes shut.

Face growled, "There's nobody here to help you."

*******

Alison stood outside Fes' door, the delicate necklace he'd dropped safe in her pocket. It helped that she knew his habits - now was a time of day he usually went to visit people stuck in the medical ward, healthy enough not to be in bacta, but not enough to go home yet. He never explained to her why he did it, and she never asked.

Quickly, she pulled out her datapad and sliced through the code locking his quarters. When the door slid open, she was mildly surprised at the room's spartan nature - though it would make sense to be so with as much travelling as he did.

She stepped into the room, reaching into her pocket for the necklace, when she heard the shower going in the 'fresher. What was he doing here? She would have to be quick about it, she didn't want to talk with him just yet. Quietly, she moved to lay the necklace upon his pillow, noticing that an half-packed satchel lay open at the foot of the bed. So he was leaving again? Figured.

She dropped the necklace upon the pillow, and froze as she heard the water stop running. Quickly, she fled the room, the door sliding shut and locked behind her.

The door to the 'fresher opened shortly thereafter, Fes obliviously emerging while he toweled his hair. He moved over to retrieve some clothes from his dresser, and was about to pull out a few things, when he noted a glint on his pillow. Tossing the towel over the chair by his desk, he moved over to see what it was.

His necklace! He thought he'd lost it forever, it must have fallen when.... He reached out and picked it up, seeing the clasp had been replaced... feeling that it was still warm from whomever had left it.

He knew instantly who had done so, and that it had been only moments earlier. Alone in the room, a strangled whisper eminated from the man's throat as he held the, now cooling, pendant in against his heart.

"Alison...."

-------- "Im meleth le, Alison. O i minui anann Im govad'le, ind im garo al'i maethor ind an pedo i peth le pul'an henia... nu le estel le an said adan." I love you, Alison. From the first time I met you, though I have not the courage to speak words you would be able to understand... before you entrusted yourself to another. (Sindar Elvish)