Arvallon - "I'm Here"

She isn’t sure which ones are worse.

The nights where he’s fighting his unseen ghosts, moaning and crying in pain or fear until she is able to shake him awake.

The nights he shouts himself awake and has to take several minutes to remember where he is before she can even touch him.

Or the quiet nights, where she wakes up to find him sitting on the edge of the bed, bent over and looking utterly hopeless and alone.

Those are probably the worst, she decides, the nights when words just don’t seem to be enough, and all she can do is hold him and let him know the only way she can think of that he isn’t alone.

I’m here, she says with her body pressing against his, giving whatever comfort she can get him to take. I’m here.

(There's a few things off in this picture, mostly that Temple is a bit smaller than Arvallon and here she looks bigger, but I didn't realize it until I was finished with it, and it's not bothering me enough to go back and fix. >.>)

Arvallon - Leaving Makeb

 And more random story-time, only happier. Bioware finally introduced same-gender-romances on the planet Makeb, which Arvallon has been steadily working through. The problem here is, Arvallon is about as straight as you can get... which resulted in this popping into my head a few days ago. Enjoy.

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“That Lord Cypharat sure is easy on the eyes, isn’t he?” The look Kaliyo gave him was her “you won’t like what I’m about to say but I don’t care” one, though it was rather wasted since Arvallon wasn’t even facing her. “If you want him, then by all means go for it,” he replied absently. “Although I’d prefer if you didn’t bring this one back to the ship.”

The elevator door hissed open, and they stepped out and headed toward the shuttle that would take them back to the Phantom. “Oh, no, agent,” Kaliyo said, a positively wicked grin spreading across her face. “I wouldn’t want to encroach on your territory.” “That’s a first,” he quipped back, then suddenly stopped and spun around to face her. “Wait, what’s that supposed to mean?” Her grin became even wider, impossible as that seemed. “Oh, agent,” she practically purred. “You mean you really didn’t notice those looks he was giving you?”

 Arvallon just stared at her; he opened his mouth, then closed it without speaking, then blinked. Abruptly he turned back around and continued to the shuttle, picking up the pace until his walk was almost a run. Kaliyo, who had to trot to catch up, just barely heard him mutter, “Past time we were off this planet.” Snickering, she followed him to where the others were waiting.

Their expressions caused a few raised eyebrows, but Arvallon refused to say anything. He hadn’t counted on Kaliyo, though. “Sorry we’re late,” he heard her say before he’d even gotten to the shuttle door. “Agent just had to shake a lovestruck Sith off his trail.”

“Oh, shut up already,” he muttered, but now the crew’s faces had turned curious, and Kaliyo always did love an audience. “Seems Lord Cypharat isn’t immune to our agent’s charms,” she explained with a knowing grin.

Vector promptly turned to the shuttle and boarded it, trying to muffle his snort of laughter with one hand. Arvallon stared after him with a betrayed expression.

Temple frowned in mild confusion. “But... Lord Cypharat is a man,” she said slowly, then looked at Arvallon’s growing blush and Kaliyo’s smug grin. A light turned on. “Oh. Oh.” She blushed deep enough to match Arvallon, then she frowned again, more fiercely. “Well, he can’t have him,” she said firmly. “He’s already taken.”

That was enough for Lokin, who made a suspicious choking noise as he also turned toward the shuttle, a mortified Temple quickly following him. As Arvallon made to board behind them, Kaliyo sidled up to him again. “You know, agent, if you need more time to say goodbye properly...” She trailed off meaningfully, waggling her eyebrows at him. Arvallon was not amused. “Shut up, Kaliyo.” She was still laughing when they finally got back to the Phantom.

Arvallon - Aftershocks

Random story for Imperial agent Arvallon, in my attempt to work through what the class storyline has done to him. This takes place a month or so after the agent story ends, but before Makeb. Warnings for disturbing dream stuff and for spoilers, though I tried not to mention anything specific.

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Aftershock-

1. A quake of lesser magnitude, usually one of a series, following a large earthquake in the same area.
2. A further reaction following the shock of a deeply disturbing occurrence or revelation

The dreams all started the same; it was the faces that changed each night. Tonight it was Kaliyo who stood behind his prone body, the vibroknife in her hand dripping his blood onto the floor. “You never should have trusted me, agent,” she told him mockingly. “It just makes it easier to cut you down.” Arvallon’s back was throbbing and he could feel his lungs already filling with blood, but he tried to answer her anyway. “I never did trust you,” he managed. “It was all in your head.”

He gasped in pain, and suddenly it was Keeper looking down at him, her face sorrowful. “You’re not supposed to form attachments,” she said. “Do you remember why?” He couldn’t speak; the blood was filling his throat now, choking him. “Because you never know who you’ll be sending to their death next,” she reminded him sadly.

Abruptly the pain and the blood vanished, though the knife in the Minister’s hand still dripped red. “I tried to do the right thing. I failed,” he said in a monotone. It was surprising he could speak at all, with his throat slit practically from ear to ear. “This is the price of failure, Cipher,” he continued. “Remember that.”

“Arvallon.”

Now the Minister morphed into Hunter, and the knife became a syringe. He - she? he could no longer tell - bent down and stuck him with the needle, and the burning began, the same sensation he’d felt on Quesh when he’d injected himself. “You should have kept your programming, it would have made things a lot easier.” Arvallon wanted to scream, but his body no longer obeyed him. The pain spread with the serum, burning through his brain and spine, then his entire body, every muscle seizing up in agony.

“Arvallon! Wake up, please!”

He sat bolt upright, covered in a cold sweat. Temple’s hand on his shoulder burned; he flinched away from it before he could stop himself, and she snatched her hand back as if afraid she’d hurt him. “You.. you were..” she began hesitantly, then stopped to swallow. “Another dream?”

It must have been bad to frighten her that much. Arvallon took a moment to concentrate on slowing his ragged breathing. The room was dark, but he could feel the bedsheets beneath him and Temple’s warmth beside him. He was in his room, on his ship - he was home, he was safe. Temple touched his shoulder again, lightly, and he reached up to cover her fingers with his own.

“It was just a dream,” he said as gently as he could. “I’m fine. Go back to sleep, Raina.” She lay back down, though he could feel her eyes on him until he stretched out beside her and allowed her to spoon up against his side.

He waited until he was certain she was asleep, then extracted himself from the bed. He left the room and headed to the bridge, pausing only to grab a shirt on his way out. The bridge was still dimly lit, and he had no problem finding his personal holoterminal and flipping it on.

He started going through the latest reports Keeper had sent, trying to drown his nightmares in work... without much success.

I’m fine, he’d said, but he knew that he wasn’t. How much of the changes in himself were from the stress of the last few months, and how much were from the effects of the serum? He’d thought his freedom was worth any price, but now he was no longer sure.

How much damage had the IX serum done to him?