Consciousness crashes into me like a rogue wave, my brain still foggy with dreams and the aftermath of last night's hook-up. The cot beneath me creaks as I stir, my naked body tangled in the thin sheet that barely covers my dignity. Somewhere nearby, I hear movement, purposeful and methodical.
I crack open one eye, wincing at the dull light filtering through the hideout's grimy windows. Vaelix stands across the room, her crimson form moving with efficient grace as she stuffs packages of rations into two oversized backpacks. Her back is to me, the scarred crimson skin shifting over taut muscles as she works.
"Good morning, Vae," I mumble, my voice still rough with sleep.
She freezes mid-motion, then turns to face me with startling quickness. Her eyes light up with something that makes my chest tighten uncomfortably.
"Vae?" she repeats, a smile spreading across her face that's equal parts delighted and predatory. "I love it."
The intensity of her reaction to a simple nickname sends a flutter of unease through my stomach. It's like I've unknowingly given her a gift she's been craving, another thread binding us together in her mind.
"What's with the packing?" I ask, sitting up and clutching the sheet around my waist. "Planning a vacation I don't know about?"
She strides over to the cot, and sits beside me. The mattress dips under her weight, and I'm suddenly very aware of my nakedness beneath the thin sheet.
"I wish to leave Arorua," she says, running a crimson finger along my jawline. "It's time we got our lives started. Together."
I blink, trying to process her words through my sleep-addled brain. Arorua. The name triggers memories from Rax's life, a jungle planet deep in Sith space, dangerous and remote. It's why I'm here in the first place, Bana had tracked Jo-Bali to this green hell, and I'd followed.
"Leave?" I repeat, studying her face. "Where exactly would we go?"
Her smile widens, showing just a hint of teeth. "To your ship, of course."
My ship. The rusty bucket of bolts I inherited from my mentor. It's not much, but it's something.
"What is your credit situation?" she asks, all business now.
I rack my brain, doing a mental inventory of my finances. The truth isn't pretty.
"I'm flat broke," I admit with a grimace. "And I don't know how much my boss had. It would be on the ship, if there's anything at all."
She nods, seemingly unconcerned by our apparent poverty. "It's no issue."
I raise an eyebrow. "You have money?"
A laugh bursts from her, sharp and sudden. She tosses her head back, exposing the elegant line of her crimson throat.
"I'm sure I've been marked dead by now, and my accounts drained," she says, amusement dancing in her eyes. "But it's no matter."
"Oh?" I'm not sure I like where this is heading.
Her hand finds mine, her grip firm and warm. "You're a bounty hunter, remember, Ty-Lar?"
"A very green bounty hunter," I counter, feeling the need to emphasize just how inexperienced I am. "I've barely started in this business."
Her expression softens, though that predatory edge never fully disappears. She leans in close, her breath warm against my ear.
"Be calm, Ty-Lar," she whispers, her voice like silk over steel. "You have me."
"Having you certainly changes the equation," I say, trying to match her confidence while my gut twists with uncertainty.
I run a hand through my hair, feeling the weight of everything I'm not saying. The memory swap, my real identity, the fact that I'm essentially playing a role in a life I barely understand. I should tell her. I'm not sure she'll believe me, but I need to at least try.
"Vae, I..." I start, my throat suddenly dry. "I need to be honest with you. I'm not joking around here. I really don't know much about anything, this world, bounty hunting, any of it."
The words are right there, balanced on the tip of my tongue, when she suddenly cuts me off.
"I know, Ty-Lar," she says softly, her expression gentle but knowing. "I saw it in my visions."
My mouth hangs open. "You... what?"
She cups my face between her crimson hands, her touch tender. "My husband is a bit dumb," she says with unexpected fondness. "You think I didn't know?"
I stare at her, completely bewildered. Does she actually know?
"I'll love you regardless," she continues, her thumbs stroking my cheeks. "Whatever confusion you're experiencing, whatever gaps exist in your knowledge or memory, none of it matters. The Force has bound us together."
I sigh, feeling slightly slighted by this assessment of my intelligence but also strangely relieved. Maybe this is for the best. If she thinks I'm dumb at least her expectations of me won't be high.
"Thanks," I mutter, not quite sure what else to say.
Vaelix's eyes suddenly flicker with mischief. Before I can react, my body lifts from the cot, sheet and all. I yelp in surprise as I'm suspended mid-air, limbs splayed out like a starfish.
"Time to get dressed," she announces, flicking her wrist. My clothes from last night, the ones scattered across the floor during our passionate encounter, rise up and begin orbiting around me like planets around a sun.
"I can dress myself!" I protest, but she ignores me, orchestrating my wardrobe with precise movements of her fingers.
My underwear slides up my legs first, followed by my pants. My shirt unfurls itself before slipping over my head with surprising gentleness. It's both humiliating and oddly intimate, being dressed like a child's doll.
"This is completely unnecessary," I grumble as my socks roll themselves onto my feet.
Vaelix smirks, clearly enjoying herself. "Efficiency is necessary when time is limited."
Once my basic clothes are on, she floats my armor pieces over. They're battered, mismatched sections that barely qualify as protection, a chest plate with scorch marks, pauldrons of different colors, and gauntlets that have seen better days.
She examines my helmet with a critical eye, turning it in her hands before looking back at me with disapproval.
"Your armor needs a significant upgrade," she declares, fitting the pieces over my clothes with methodical precision. "You'd never survive against a Sith assassin in this garbage."
I sigh. "I'm not sure that's a common occupational hazard for me."
Her expression darkens slightly as she secures my chest plate. "It could be in the future." There's no humor in her voice, just cold certainty that sends a chill down my spine.
She lowers me to the ground, and my boots touch the floor with a soft thud. The weight of my complete armor settles around me, familiar yet strange, like everything else in this bizarre new life.
"Are Sith assassins something I should be actively worried about?" I ask, adjusting my gauntlet.
Vaelix steps closer, her crimson fingers tracing the edge of my chest plate. "With me by your side? Perhaps. There are those who would seek to harm what is mine."
"Damn," I mutter, trying to wrap my head around my new reality. Better to change the subject than dwell on potential death squads. "So, assuming we make it to my ship without getting murdered by your old pals, do you have any goals in mind? Places you want to fly to?"
Vaelix steps closer, her fingers trailing along my armored forearm.
"The bounties in Hutt space will likely pay better until you have a good reputation," she says, her tactical mind clearly having already mapped this out. "We'll need to establish ourselves quickly. Credits first, then connections."
She circles me like a predator, inspecting my armor from every angle. "You will be the face of our little operation," she continues, tapping my chest plate, "and I will be the blade."
A slow, unsettling smile spreads across her crimson features. "It's going to be so romantic, killing with you."
'My life is so fucked.'