The large corridor was silent and somewhat threatening. Dark grey walls were sparsely decorated with red and white banners. The carpet was the color of Lord Nuála's blood-red skin. The elevator shaft in front of them reminded of a black mouth that seemed to wait for their last few steps it would take to fall down and get swallowed by it alive. The tenuous light and the pressing heat of Korriban helped adjusting the gloomy atmosphere.

All in all, said atmosphere felt more than appropriate for his mood, Quinn decided.

Once he had felt rather impressed by facilities like this. He would have given his right arm to get a position at the citadel at Dromund Kaas. Stars, he would have killed his own mother to fly a star destroyer. His greatest dream had been to become a moff, and he had been close to fulfill this goal as one of the youngest officers ever.

So much had changed since then. Right now he couldn't wait to get back to the small Fury-class that was Nuála's ship. He longed for the "Nightmare", especially for the vessel's bridge. He found himself hoping that as soon as they got on board again, he could just slip into the captain's chair, get them as far away from here as possible, and everything could somehow just switch back to normal. Back to how it had been before he became a traitor. Back to when he had just been a man deeply in love with and devoted to the woman who had first become his superior and later his lover and wife.

He swallowed, giving his best to hide his uneasiness by straightening up and rearranging his hands once more behind his back. He clutched them so hard he dug his nails into his own flesh, but the familiar stiff position he stood in was kind of reassuring. He needed the little comfort he got out of this right now.

Like so many times before, his stinging conscience told him just how much he had underestimated Nuála. Baras had sounded so convincing, had lured him to believe that his wife really had no chance to stand against her former master. Baras had let it sound like he wouldn't even have bothered with her, had not her actions against him threatened his position at the Dark Council. With the Emperor nowhere around and the Empire close to another war against the Republic, who else if not Baras would be able to assume command? Who else would do what was required to drive the enemy away? Of course, the Darth fully understood Quinn's scruples, but surely a devoted servant of the Empire like the captain would not stand beside and watch this woman doom the future of the Dark Council? Surely he would understand under these conditions the necessity of his wife's death as a sacrifice for the welfare of their beloved Empire?

And finally, after hearing it over and over again, he had understood. Oh, yes, he had suffered deeply, but he had obeyed, like so many times before. After all, that was how he had been raised: to obey, to serve, to function properly under no matter what circumstances. His personal interests had to stand back once more for the good of the Empire. And so he had plotted against his lord, and had attempted to kill his spouse.

He had failed miserably.

A motion drew his attention back to the dark hallway and the delicate frame of Nuála, who stood right before him, staring down the hoistway in front of them. The zabrak seemed lost in deep thought and rolled her acing shoulders, the injuries of the most important fight of her life now taking their toll. Examining her carefully, Quinn detected one serious looking and several minor wounds, but didn't dare to touch her, let alone start his med droid or even give his lord a quick med scan. She had made more than clear at their arrival that she expected him not to interfere in any way as long as they were planet-site. Once more his role was to obey. So he did. He suspected that she had only wanted him around to witness her triumph over Darth Baras, to show him how very capable she was to destroy her arch-enemy, despite Quinn's doubts. He considered the fact that her own husband had had no faith in her skills had been as hard a blow to take for her as his treason itself.

And she had proofed him so wrong! She had not simply defeated Baras. No, she had crushed him under her boot like an insect, her face a cold mask of concentration during the whole fight. It had not been a mere duel to the death, it had been an annihilation.

Never before had he seen her as determined as today. He had known her as an angel of death, his powerful goddess of war. There had always been a lust for blood in her and a feral, deadly elegance during fights, sometimes even paired with a cruel playfulness that made him think of a manka-cat out on the hunt. It was her way of almost celebrating the death of a worthy opponent that left him standing in awe for her right from the beginning. As their relationship developed, he became accustomed to and indeed aroused by it when she tasted of blood and sweat, pulling him into a quick embrace for a swift but passionate, breathless kiss right after reveling in carnage.

Today she had been completely different, all stone-faced and calculating efficiency, focused only on her opponent, not missing a single one of his moves and leaving almost no openings in her guard.

Only once had she turned her eyes away from her enemy.

Baras had struck her thigh with his lightsaber. He had only brushed it since she got one of her own weapons down to block the worst of that maneuver, but the large sith still dealt her a wound that left her leg badly burnt. Quinn, all tensed up by the fight, had lost control then and gasped out loud before he found his composure again. She had glanced over to her captain and shown an unreadable expression, before she returned her gaze to her foe, all determined ice queen-facade again within an instant. After that it took her only a few more powerful blows to defeat her opponent. In the end, Baras had been begging for help from the other council members, since he had nothing left to put against her raw sovereignty. She finished him off by simply igniting one of her lightsabers right in front of his huge belly. For Nuála, he wasn't even worth one of her beloved Force-chokes.

Quinn had been so proud of her then, but all he could do was stand back in attention and wait for her while she spoke to the Council and received her praises. When she finally turned to leave she addressed him with a crisply "Captain", indicating him with a wave of her hand to follow her. He had wanted to congratulate her, fling his arms around her and hold her tight, see to her wounds, just do something. But this was not the right place to provoke her with any of this, and he found himself answering with a quick "My lord" and followed her out of the hall. These three words where their complete communication since they had left the orbital station.

So, here they stood, all alone, waiting for the elevator to arrive. Neither of them said a word.

Not that there had been much talking between the two of them lately. After that cursed day of his treachery, she had given him orders as usual, sometimes even turned to him for his tactical advice about their missions, but the only time she had spoken to him about anything personal had been right after their fight, when she had told him to sleep in the med bay until further notice. At least she had not instructed him to take his personal belongings out of her room and back to the crew quarters. The rest of their team just knew they had quarreled. He tried to draw hope out of that.

She had not killed him. She had not tortured him. She had not punished him, except for her short series of Force-chokes right after their fight. But neither had she talked to him about what she felt, what he was to do about regaining her love and trust, if there even was a chance she took him back, or if it all was just ruined now. When Darth Vowrawn had praised him for his efforts against the would-be assassin back on Corellia, she had seemed proud of him for an instant, but then had immediately made clear that Quinn still had to make up for his mistake. And so he tried, never knowing what she thought about him, how she felt about him or if she still wanted him in her life.

He stared at her back, musing.

If he reached out for her right now, would she slam him right into the next wall? Would she Force-choke him again? Or was she in fact waiting for him to make his move, unwilling to give in first? Did she want him to be bold? Did she want him to fight for their love? Did she care at all whether he was around her or not? If he asked her to get reassigned, would she have to chuckle and ask if he was trying to be an idiot again, or would she not even give a damn?

He could not think of anything he could say or do to show her how desperately he loved her. How relieved he was to still be a member of her crew. How glad he was she had defeated him and his droid-assassins. How willingly he would go through any punishment she chose if she could just forgive him.

There was nothing he could think of saying that would do the trick.

Quinn just stood there, cursing the elevator that just didn't come up, cursing his unsuccessful attempt to calculate her reactions, cursing himself at a loss of words, but most of all cursing the day he had failed her so completely. His grinding nails were almost drawing blood now. He tried to square his shoulders even more. Both could not keep him from thinking it all over again.

If only he had kept true to her, he would be praising her victory right now, showering her with compliments while she would chuckle and tell him to stop it right now with that half-smile of hers. She would be secretly holding his hand, since nobody could see them here. He would steal a kiss as they entered the lift, and back on the ship she would pull him with her into their quarters as soon as they returned to the "Nightmare". He would nuzzle her hair with his nose, whispering words of comfort in her ear while dressing her wounds, caressing her wounded flesh with his lips as long as the kolto needed to do its work. Finally, he would curl up with her to let her get the sleep she desperately needed after the strain of the fight…

But his hands still clung to each other behind his back unclaimed by hers and useless. His mouth kept shut with his excitement unspoken.

Maybe she would allow him to patch her up in the med bay before leaving him there. Maybe even that would not be granted to him and she would have Jaessa see to her injuries. Or Pierce, since the lieutenant fussed around her lately like a little puppy trying to get his masters attention.

He felt terrible.

But he suddenly realized he was not the only one.

Nuála looked like she felt uncomfortable, too, and it seemed to go beyond the physical pain from her wounds. He could see her fingers twitch, as if she tried to prevent herself from clenching and unclenching her fists like she so often did when she was strung up. Twice it looked like she was about to turn to him and say something, just to remain silent instead.

The elevator came up finally.

She entered it, then turned to face him while he followed her in. She still didn't say a single word, but her green eyes were dark with sorrow when her gaze met his, their red coronas emphasizing their expression of despair.

He was shocked.

It was the hour of her greatest triumph. She had proofed herself as the true Wrath of the Emperor and had claimed her right, hailed by the Dark Council, finally a Darth among her equals. Right now, she was probably the most deadly, most powerful woman of the entire galaxy, but yet she looked at him and all he could see was misery. In the tiny space of the descending lift she finally let her mask down and showed him all the pain she had concealed for those past long weeks. She took a long tormented breath. When she spoke, her voice soft and hoarse, he felt his heart skipping a beat.

"Malavai…"

It took him a single step to close the gaping abyss that had lain between them. His hand rose to her face, his fingertips gently pushing her chin up, while he dipped his face to hers to breathe a tender kiss to her lips. When she kissed him back, he pulled her close and locked her in his arms.

While all those words he had so desperately been searching for had left him speechless, she had found the single one she needed to tell him she was his again.