It Started Here

[Haytham Kaze]

Zeltros
Club Blush.
[member="Joza Perl"]

Haytham hadn't gone by a Darth title months now. It was a painful reminder of what he had done in the past to those who were closest to him. At the time his actions had been necessary, to this point he still stood by them, even if he regretted them. There was no one in the Galaxy to feel sorry for him, and he hadn't left his home on Dromund Kaas all those years ago to set out for a legion of followers that pitied him.

He set out to be a Paragon of Justice.

And even those first friends that he had encountered and reconnected with had disappeared.

Back then he believed wholeheartedly in the ways of the Jedi and their call for justice and peace. To cast down the Sith threat that threatened to turn the Galactic Republic to naught but ash.

In the end, however... Both governments had collapsed in on themselves.

The Republic crushed by the weight of the Mandalorian fighting machine, and the One Sith by their own infighting, and from the pressure of the Galactic Alliance. With their capital world of Coruscant being taken, the proclaimed centre of the Galaxy, the City-Planet, faith and loyalty all throughout the One Sith's Empire had been shaken to its very core.

And here he stood, entering a Nightclub, early, one that was sorely familiar for the sole purpose of salvaging one connection.

My greatest challenge yet.

 

[Joza Perl]

Conversely, Joza Perl had set out with no idea what she was doing. Just a vague, idealistic dream of being a saber-swinging hero who went on adventures and saved the galaxy.

The galaxy, however, did not care for her.

The title of Jedi was muddled with different interpretations of the code, and the Zeltron had wracked her brain for a long time trying to fit neatly into that box. Jedi or Sith, you had to be one. There was no in between. That’s what she’d been taught from both ends of the spectrum.

Instead, she just was. While she understood the galaxy’s compulsive need to label enemies and allies, it was exhausting detrimental in some areas. So she continued on her way.

Like wood, firmly rooted to the ground. Like water, slowly carving a path through stone.

Blush was where she’d started, before the Jedi and the Sith, before she’d willingly thrown herself into their endless war. She returned a decade later, purchased the establishment and tweaked it to suit her own needs. She was no mogul, but Joza knew the ins and outs of the entertainment industry.

It was early in the evening, roughly an hour or so before the nightclub would be packed with scantily clad women and the rougher clientele eyeing them up. When there wasn’t any particularly pressing work to be done, Joza would make herself comfortable in the VIP room with a drink and her datapad.

A cigarette hung between her lips and she swiped at the screen, a lingering glance sent towards the door for a moment as something just felt off. She wasn’t one to ignore her instincts even now, but she went back to swiping.

[member="Haytham Kaze"]

 

[Haytham Kaze]

Grey orbs swept across the first floor as he walked through the establishments. There were few customers about, and there were even fewer employees. He kept walking however, unawares of whether he was noticed. Or perhaps, he simply didn't care. Long legs carried him up the steps to the second floor. The second floor was a chill room, the guards wouldn't stop him just yet, though he was still regarded with looks as he appeared to completely bypass the bar on the first level.

So that white haired woman was right.

It would be impossible to have peace in this Galaxy. The longest lasting peace had only been one thousand years before Darth Maul had slain the Jedi Master Qui-Gon Jinn.

Peace never lasted in this world.

The only true peace that could be achieved was one of personal peace. Acceptance came first, he had realized immediately after Ruusan. Everything else was interior, and after the Battle, he had felt destabilized beyond repair. The Triumvirate also collapsed, and then he was alone. Surrounded by thousands of soldiers and refugees that he had saved.

But alone.

His hand dropped down to brush against the lightsabre resting there, but then he found that there was nothing there. The only weapon he bore was the Gun of Command, but he only had one goal for that at the end of the night. Soon, he imagined.

The simple hood he wore was pushed off of his head, and as he made for the third floor, that was when he used the Force to invade the minds of the guards. He didn't change anything specifically, merely froze them in place as he came towards them, and wiped the last few moments from their memory as he came up to the next level.

He patted his chest pocket briefly, making sure the picture was in place before he dropped his hand and swept his gaze across the VIP Room to spot [member="Joza Perl"].

If she didn't notice him already, he would've reached out across the void of space that had once been a powerful bridge that linked them from worlds apart. In reality, by now, it had all collapsed.

I only came to talk.

There were no attempts at swaying her, not like in the past. There was no under layer of goofiness or boyish charm that she had first fallen in love with. It was just... Business. Something that had to be done.

 

[Joza Perl]

Blush was no high profile establishment, and they knew their clientele well. Security was in place to break up inevitable fights and keep the girls from being spirited away or otherwise harassed. They were not especially equipped to handle Force users, and the Sith Lord breezed his way past them as he headed towards the familiar presence.

She knew he was there. She felt him move up the stairs, though the second level and up to the VIP room where they’d be alone. There were few other presences in the area to muddle their senses, and as he entered the room her head lifted. Eyes that once looked up to him in adoration were now stone. Back straight, legs crossed as she placed the datapad delicately on the table beside her. She was not thrilled that she was here, nor did she plan on seeing him again of her own volition. He lacked the usual hilts at his waist, but there was a single blaster at his hip. That damned thing from Ruusan.

Her lips shifted, the cigarette bobbing slightly as she spoke.

“Then speak.”

[member="Haytham Kaze"]

 

[Haytham Kaze]

He walked across the room to her, as close as she would let him, and if she didn't stop his progress, then he would sit himself upon the chair beside her. Perched upon it rather, as if he were sitting upon glass and didn't want to rip himself a new one. He looked her up and down. She was different, that much couldn't have been told on the physical level when they had bumped into each other on Nar Shaddaa. He had sensed that much, but now... Now he could see it.

She was scarred.

Much more than he had ever given her credit for.

"I didn't come here for pity - or for you to... Feel bad... It just... Needs to be said." He said the words, unsure of himself, which words to pick before she got tired of his ranting.

"I treated you wrongly on... Multiple occasions, and paid the consequences." He sought eye contact. "I made choices, ones that I thought would benefit us, but had only pushed us further apart." Such as completing his Sith training and breaking contact for all that time before finally coming back together on Cloud Nine, where he had struck her. "You matured, and I didn't, and you stayed for as long as you did." He tilted his head to her, "... I want you to tell me why."

[member="Joza Perl"]

 

[Joza Perl]

Anger simmered deep, deep beneath the surface. It would reflect in the little nuances of her posture, the rigidity of her gaze as she met his eyes contact full on. While Joza wasn’t entirely sure what he had come here for, she had a few guesses.

Why had she stayed?

The time on Bakura, he’d ridiculed her and she’d taken it as a sad eyed girl who felt sorry for herself.

“In an ever changing galaxy, you were something familiar.” The cigarette found its way between two pink fingers as she took her time with a slow, languid exhale of smoke. But there was a subtle undercurrent of aggression in each movement. “And I thought that given enough time, we could go back to the way things were.” Her eyes flickered sharply, smoothing the length of the cigarette with one finger as she spoke without sentiment. “Back to that lie, before we knew the depth of who the other really was. Two infatuated teenagers thinking they could take on the galaxy.”

Another drag off of her cigarette, this one slow and burning. The Zeltron rose from her chair and stepped towards him, footfalls fluid as she stopped in front of him.

“It took me until recently to understand how selfish of a man you are. Your choices were to benefit your own ego.”

Emerald gaze bore down on him like durasteel, no touch of kindness or hint of regret.

“To think that you paid the consequences shows that you don’t really understand what you did.”

Roughly, without warning, she backhanded him across the face.

“You’re just telling me what you think I want to hear.”

[member="Haytham Kaze"]

 

[Haytham Kaze]

Haytham warched her all the while she spoke. She was right, and he wouldn't deny her of that.But in his own eyes he didn't have an rgo, though that was something that likely cane with having a large ego. He didn't move when she spoke, instead he took it all in. Though she was wrong in her thinking that he believed he had paid the consequences. Far from it.

He opened his mouth to say something, but before he even made a sound he was struck across the face with the back of herhand.

She was angry, and it was nothing compared to what he had done to her.

His face went with the sudden slap. He hadn't seen it coming, but that was what she was going for.

But then he continued on as if nothing had happened, as if there was no reddening mark on his face.

"I was more experienced than you," he started. "I thought that the way I was treating you would benefit you, to prevent you from having experienced the same things that I had. Dying worlds, forgotten friends." He maintained eye contact all the while. "I took advantage," he said firmly, "and there are no words to illustrate the hatred i have for myself for doing that to you."

In a swift movement, the Gun of Command was in his hand, though it's muzzle was facing him and the handle to her.

"Destroy it, or use it on me."

His jaw locked at the latter for more than one reason.

"My only drive is to do right by you."

[member="Joza Perl"]

 

[Joza Perl]

Her eyes drifted to the red mark on his face that began to swell almost instantly with the force of her strike. Shortly, it would turn to a bruise. Surprisingly, there was no pang of remorse for striking the man she once sought to love and cherish. It was fulfilling. It felt right.

Silently, she wanted more.

“Arrogance,” Silken voice rumbled as her gaze leveled on him. “You sought only to control. To possess. And in the end, you saved me from nothing.”

A Jedi, then a Rogue. Twice a slave, a dancer and eventual business woman. An abolitionist, seductress, a mother. There were many aspects that went into a person. Many aspects that dictated how they made decisions, how they acted around others. Everyone was a culmination of their experiences, Joza and Haytham being no different.

She stared down at the Gun of Command, lingering for a few seconds before she reached out to take it from him by the handle. She raised it, muzzle facing to the side while inspecting it for a moment.

A peace offering?

A question drifted into her mind, one she’d asked him twice. First in the fields of Bakura when they were kids, and again later down the road. When she could still smile at him. Would you kill me if you had to?

She considered it for a few moments before lowering the gun, ruby lips parting.

“Would you die for me, Haytham Kaze?”

[member="Haytham Kaze"]

 

[Haytham Kaze]

It was fitting for him to strike him like that. It reahed back to a time years past, back on Cloud Nine where he had regrettably struck the only person in the Galaxy who actually cared for him. That... that had been the largest mistake he had ever committed to. He had even gone as far as to claim that he wouldn't apologize for it. Now, in this instance was fornthe first time he saw how headstrong he hadnbrrn.

He had been possessive, controlling.

"I... I didn't want to lose the last thing, the last person that I cared for." His jaw line quavered for a moment, the defining features breaking apart but he made no move to hide it, no move to hide how he truly felt. "Before we even got to the end... I had done exactly that." He let a mixture of a snort and a self-deprecating chuckle slip and his gaze looked off to some corner as if he were expecting himself to suddenly be on some set of a HoloDrama.

But no, this was real lige, and he was going through the process of making amends.

Would I die for her?

The first time shebhad ever asked a question like that, it had been whether he would kill her. It was a no. The second time... the second time it had been if it was a necessity. Something else to regret come to think of it.

"If there was the slightest chance it would prolong your life..."

He stared her in the eyes as his gaze came back around.

"I would die."

[member="Joza Perl"]

 

[Joza Perl]

His confirmation was all that she needed.

“Then so be it.”

This was not the first time there’d been a clash between the two. Back then, in every moment she was unsure of her own anger. Whether or not it was real, whether it was founded. Intentional or not, he’d made her believe that she was a bad person, that she was weak, that she was wrong for confronting him and standing up for herself when treated poorly. She’d gone through most of her life internalizing the anger, making excuses for their bad relationship. Joza hadn’t been perfect, she’d betrayed his trust at one point. But she had tried to reach out to him, gentle and fragile as she withered under his cold gaze.

She held the gun by the muzzle.

A lot of introspection had followed her recent conversation with [member="Elpsis Elaris"]. Now sadness and guilt were overpowered by the rage she’d once buried, livid at how he’d treated her and how she allowed him to. Still, she never figured that it would be this overwhelming. Like an IV drip of the strongest spice, she’d discovered anger to give her a satisfaction that no lover ever could.

In one quick motion, the butt of the gun cracked against the side of his skull.

“You beat me, you had your way with me.”

The fingers of her organic hand curled into his hair tightly as she yanked his head back with no regard for the structure of the bones in his neck. Her words were venom, eyes no longer cold as they burned bright with adrenaline, seeking to add more fuel to her inferno that raged inside her and blazed through everything in its path.

“When Nikias defended me, you sought to kill him because your poor little ego was bruised.”

The fist of her cybernetic hand slugged him heavily in the face as she pulled him up by the grip on his hair before yanking to the side and letting go, sending him to the ground.

“You had what was coming. He punished you for hurting me. How fethed up is that, Haytham? You’re the one who was supposed to be defending me. You were supposed to protect me and make me feel safe, but all you ever did was make me feel like I was less of a person.”

A sharp kick to the stomach followed.

[member="Haytham Kaze"]

 

[Haytham Kaze]

The next minute was a mess in his mind.

Did she not remember that his memories were all he had? Not that he cared. He sought to forget, everything if he could. Whether she beat the memories out of his mind or not made no difference. Those lucky few who had eidetic memories tended to lose the ability by the time they were fully grown adults.

Haytham was a fully grown adult.

Physically, anyway.

He had come to realize before coming to Zeltros that his memory was waning, at a rate that wasn't normal. Lack of sleep was likely apart of it, and recent injuries on Nar Shaddaa came with it. When the speeder truck had crashed, he had found that he was being carried back onto his ship, the only thing in his hand was the picture of [member="Joza Perl"] and her son. Their son. But no Zeltron mother to explain it.

He twisted his head when the butt of the gun came around to crack against his skull. From what would've been a devastating strike was more of a glancing hit, though it came much too close to his eye. Instead, it struck him in the temple, and his world almost blackened as he became dizzy.

Feth.

His head was yanked back, and his teeth bared, instinctively. He almost struck out. Almost. Was she going to snap his neck? Bring it to the breaking point and then... *Pop?*

Instead he was gifted with a punch that was all metal.

She used that hair she once loved against him. Multiple memories ran through his mind of how she had ran her hands through it. Grasped tightly and pulled at it while they were in the throes of passion. Now she was bringing that hair to its breaking point, some spots bald from where strands were pulled out, though not noticeably enough for him to look disheveled, that came after his face bounced off of the floor when she dropped him.

Oh, and right after the kick to the stomach.

The kick however was the last uninhibited attack he'd let her have however. His face was bruising, soon his vision would be impaired by it. When the kick made contact, he grunted, but when he wrapped both legs around her one foot, he sought to pull her down to the ground, on a level with him. And then he spoke, "H-he told me that you would always be the better person... Out of the both of us," he barely got out. He was speaking of Nikias, but she didn't know that. Back before Nikias had given himself to the Force, he had said that Joza would always be better than the either of them, that together, they had made Joza the person they were both proud of. Was he watching her now?

 

[Joza Perl]

Joza put her hands out, bracing herself for the fall as she was pulled down to the floor with [member="Haytham Kaze"].

"H-he told me that you would always be the better person... Out of the both of us,"​

​

Those words…! The thought of him quoting Nikias, trying to make her feel bad cut deep into the core. They gave her momentary pause, but no tender moment followed. It only added more fuel to the fire, more venom to her voice as she found herself on top of him in a flash, cybernetic hand wrapping around his throat first before the organic one.

“You taunted me with your plans to kill him. You knew how much he meant to me. When he protected me, you only thought about your own damaged ego and hurt feelings.” Her words dripped with a bitter poison, robotic hand squeezing enough to make him uncomfortable, but not enough to cut off his air just yet. There was a sickly sweet satisfaction to drawing whatever this was out.

“You didn’t know Nikias like I did.” She leaned in closer, dark red hair falling over her shoulders, framing her face and those green eyes that burned brightly as if trying to pierce right through him. “If he were here right now, he’d only encourage me.” She couldn't be entirely sure of that, but this was a heated moment. The hand squeezed tighter, just a tic as she stared into his eyes with vehemence. There were still feelings for him, somewhere there—but they were overshadowed, buried deep beneath the anger she’d held back all those years. Things could never go back to what they were, not even with a child in the picture.

“You took my best friend away from me.”

[member="Haytham Kaze"]

 

[Haytham Kaze]

He took the beating, and he wouldn't stop taking it, not until she had finally come to an end, which he didn't see coming soon. They were both strong, but this was [member="Joza Perl"]'s breakdown of emotions, one that he had never seen before. He wouldn't stop her from releasing her anger, no matter how badly he didn't want to actually die. If it came, then he would accept his fate. He'd rejoin Orcus in the afterlife, and watch over the last person he had spent time with.

Her hand came around his throat.

"You're right," he said, but with his battered and beaten face, it'd be a miracle if she understood what he had said. It was little more than nonsensical gurgling at this point.

He'd encourage me.

Haytham didn't know about that, and some part of him, one that didn't need the Force, knew that even she had trouble believing that. Nikias in his prime had hated Haytham, without a doubt. But towards the end, he had given himself off to the Force before Haytham even had the chance to actually lay hands on him. Haytham would never say it aloud, but there was a hint of doubt in his ability at beating Nikias, even when he was weakening himself under the Valley of Sith Lords on Ruusan.

This time he did his best to speak through it, his throat constricting. He needed water he realized, and he coughed up blood, right into her face. It was an accident, though he imagined her retribution would be swift and come in the form of a metal hand. "Didn..." He didn't even bother to finish the pronouncing of the word as he reached into her mind with the Force, making a bid to showcase what he truly thought. Before she would even be cast into his memories, she'd be immersed with his feelings of remorse, regret, hate, self-hatred most of all. Him, Haytham, a person she had once known cast in shadow, alone.

And then she would've been sent into the memory.

 

[Joza Perl]

She cringed as he spat blood in her face, not even moving to wipe it away. Instead both hands remained wrapped firmly around his neck, Haytham’s blood dribbling down the side of her face and dripping languidly onto her top. Joza would pay no attention to that for now, too focused on the man beneath her as he reached into her mind, conjuring images of Nikias into her head.

Her heart thumped with sentiment at seeing the image of her old friend again, no matter how frail and sickly he looked. Still he’d soldiered on through the fight, getting a few good hits in before disappearing into the Force. Vision-Haytham’s scream of anger had torn through the Force and rippled into her mind while she was meditating on Voss. Meditation and Voss, two things that seemed so far away.

She’d felt two things that day. The thread of life that had been snipped from this world, and the agony of a man who’d been denied his revenge. In the present, Joza’s grip slackened for just a moment before it returned in full force, eyes fashioning themselves into daggers.

“I remember that day,” Her voice was low, steely and a little soft with the memories. “I’d felt Nik’s death and I’d heard your anger. But even if this makes me a worse person,” Her hands tightened, slow and methodical as a hint of sulfur flashed in her wide eyes. “It’s good not to be the passive, apologetic girl who tries to appease an abusive piece of chit.” Ruby red lips curled in a snarl as she forcibly shoved him from her mind, though his myriad of feelings was not lost on her. So he wanted to play with his projecting emotions unto a Zeltron?

He’d feel a torrent of mental sensation as she penetrated her way into his head. Anxiety, depression, exhaustion, distress, confusion—a girl who wanted to be loved and do the right thing, a girl who chased the high of what she thought was a happy relationship. They were handpicked sentiments from the past, not what she felt now—but her contemporary anger was still present, hanging over the showcase of emotion like a blackened storm cloud. She wanted him to know what it had been like for her over the last decade or so, even if only a little.

[member="Haytham Kaze"]

 

[Haytham Kaze]

Before he was even able to explain why he had showed her the images of Nikias to the Zeltron, he was assaulted by a myriad of emotions that he hadn't been ready for. The confusion and anxiety struck first, as they were the same emotions he had felt with her in those unforgotten times they had spent together. Depression, exhaustion, even distress were unfamiliar, alien to him as he felt his back arch from both muscle spasms at the uncomfortable position and beating she had given him, and from the sudden invasion of his mind in turn.

With her in his mind, she'd see a multitude of images and scenes ranging from their times on Bakura, Nar Shaddaa where they had encountered each other briefly, likely the only time where they hadn't truly fought, and it had just been a much needed release. And from there she'd see the aging Haytham from when they first met, going through his training with the living and breathing form of Orcus. A heavyset creature, while Haytham remained light and nimble.

She saw their numerous duels against each other, against their opponents. The accolades and achievements that they acquired together as they brought law and order to the Triumvirate. Haytham a shadow behind the Herglic, literally, though that was a given, but figuratively as well as he operated as a will of the Sith Lord. She too, would see and perhaps even feel the anger, hatred for Orcus as he suggested using her, [member="Joza Perl"] as a weapon both against the Silver Jedi, and her friend Nikias. Whether she discerned that or not, it had been the lingering thoughts that had forced him to drive the glass dagger into the Herglic's blubbery body to kill him.

All mistakes, he thought in the hopes that she heard him mentally. All because I thought it would protect you from Orcus... From myself... Nothing has ever been more... Regretted.

The pressure of her emotions was nigh to the point of breaking his consciousness as his hand rose up to that breast pocket, conscious of her still having an able body, not to mention metal hand to beat him with.

 

[Joza Perl]

It was like a war. Emotions pulsed and pulsed between two minds, twisting and fighting and feeling. The war was written on their faces.

Anger could only block out everything around her for so long. It still pulsed through her like hot liquid iron in her veins, but she was now coming to realize how their roles has reversed. She’d been passive and soft the time she approached him to apologize for something she shouldn’t have—Nikias defending her. She’d been too blinded by the need for his approval to stand up for someone who really cared for her, and for that she was sorry.

Regret.

He was experiencing regret. Regret that he hadn’t maintained his dominance over her? Regret that she’d wizened up and turned on him? Now he was sorry?

She was brought back to that night on Bakura nearly two years ago where they’d conceived Alan.

​

[SIZE=9pt]"I expected nothing from you. Yet, I still feel disappointment."[/SIZE]​

Her gaze bore down onto him. He’d walked all over her, and she’d let him. Standing up for herself was seen as defiance, unfair. Now, she lived for Haytham Kaze no longer.

His hand rose to his chest, towards a pocket and she snapped into motion. Her organic hand unraveled itself from his neck, hastily retrieving whatever weapon was there before he could. Her eyes flared in surprised when instead, her fingers bushed the star wars equivalent of a photograph. Brows furrowing in a mix of frustration and confusion, she lifted it up to the lowlight only to find the image of her and her son staring back at her.

For a moment, it was enough for her metal hand to ease on his throat before she shoved the picture in his face. “Where did you get this?” She demanded, no small amount of venom in her tone. His response was the only thing keeping her cybernetic arm from clamping down on his windpipe and putting an end to this.

[member="Haytham Kaze"]

 

[Haytham Kaze]

Haytham wasn't sure what it was that she was shoving in his face. In fact, with his swollen features and dizzy mind, he wasn't entirely certain what was going on in the physical plane of existence to begin with. There were shapes, he saw shapes. He forced on the Force to give him sight, to help him see what was being thrust in her face.

He blinked in response, surprised even. His hand still hung at the breast pocket, as if it were still searching for the picture. He was slow, and she had rocked his mind, though in those moments where she allowed him more air to breathe when her hand lifted from his throat things started to clear up - only a little.

"..Ar Shaddaa," he got out in a small voice as he squirmed underneath her. A familiar position for the both of them, unusually hostile compared the last times they had been in it. Though, in this situation, necessitated. He grinded his teeth upon each other, before forcing himself to smile. "It's a nice picture," he said, the words barely capable of passing his lips as his hand finally closed on the breast pocket, making an attempt at closing it. Haytham didn't think there would be anything else going into it this time. "You look..." His words trailed on, almost as if he was searching for the right word. If his face wasn't beat up, perhaps she would've known his brows to be knitting together in confusion before he said, "Happy." He coughed.

That hurt.

Definitely fractured something in his chest.

"Happy for you," he'd finally get out.

[member="Joza Perl"]

 

[Joza Perl]

“Happy for you,”​

​

The initial rush was beginning to wear off, giving way to strained nerves and a leveling mind. At first glance, it seemed so wrong to her—she’d loved this man once, she’d born his child. A child he would never meet if she had anything to do about it.

Anger was still present, but it burned slowly in the backdrop as more forward thoughts began to flood her head. Yes, she’d loved him—infatuation—at one point, and had sought nothing but his tenderness and attention. After the abuse and manipulation, she couldn’t allow him to be around Alan. Even him knowing about the child was enough of a risk to spur her on.

Revenge was wishy-washy. Joza had to protect her child from someone who may one day seek to use him for his own gain. Maybe things would have been different, but there was nothing that made her believe that Haytham would change. Just a flimsy hope embedded in sentiment, slowly slipping away like sand through her fingers.

They wrapped tighter around his neck, clutching fervently with enough force to crush his windpipe. Emerald eyes dulled to olive, flickers of sulfur snaking out from her pupils. She said nothing, staring into his eyes with the intensity he deserved.

She would not stop until the light left those gray stormy skies.

[member="Haytham Kaze"]

 

[Haytham Kaze]

He didn't know what she felt after he had spoken those words. There would've been nothing he could say that would've changed what she wanted to do to him. It was clear to him that when she had asked him that question minutes earlier about whether or not he would die for her, she meant to kill him. It wasn't something that he'd stop. He had gone there to make amends and it hadn't turned out as he had wanted, from the very start she had been responsive.

Yet, not in the way that would've benefited their relationship.

She shut down the part of the brain that would've felt anything, that would've spared him, that would've let him live.

Good. He thought to himself, as she finally began to apply pressure to his throat, gradually, almost as if she wasn't sure if she wanted to kill him yet. She was staring into his eyes he had realized, quite the personal way to kill someone, he faintly thought to himself. In fact, that last decade they had spent in each others lives was intimate. Even when they had hated each other and they drove each other away from one another, whenever they were brought back together their bond had only become stronger, but after Ruusan, after Nikias, after Bakura, the chances had been lost to make amends.

How foolish he had been.

I'm sorry, would've been the last thought that traveled across his mind, as he reached out to her mentally.

His apology wasn't solely for the actions he had taken against her in the past, but rather what he did then. When he reached out into her mind then, he carried his own presence, conscious even to invade her mind. A sudden thing as she was distracted with squeezing the very life out of him. And she did, for the light in those grey eyes went out and they stared blindly up and into her own cooling gaze of amber as he sought to find a new home, a new host for his mind within Joza's own.

[member="Joza Perl"]

 

[Joza Perl]

What upset her the most is how he’d just accepted it.

Haytham didn’t fight back. He took what she dished out without complaint, even as her hands constricted around his throat with intent to kill. The part of her that wavered was not the vast history between them, but the fact that she was fully prepared to take another life. This wasn’t the same thing as killing in self defense or taking out a soldier on the battlefield—this was more real. This was a man she once looked at with a loving gaze and shared the most vulnerable part of herself with. Her willingness to end him surprised even her.

A clean shot to the head would’ve been better.

But it had to be dragged out, she had to cut his life off gradually, press down on his throat until he saw stars from the lack of oxygen to his brain. She wasn’t fully aware of why, and something primal stirred deep within her chest. There was no crazed, wide-eyed stare full of disbelief at what she was doing. Just a passive, continuous gaze into stormy waters.

It was supposed to be over, but she felt him pierce her mind like a stinger and her face scrunched into a bloodied wince. Sorry? She couldn’t do chit with sorry. He wasn’t sorry. Her eyes flared as her inorganic hand clamped down with vicious force, sealing off the last vestiges of breath from [member="Haytham Kaze"].

The VIP room was eerily quiet, no sounds of struggle and no more gasps of breath. The only sound was the distant, muffled bass of the music two floors below. Joza stayed hunched over him for a few moments, sneer curling her lips as she finally unwound her hand from his neck. Her lips parted, followed by a slow intake of breath as she stared down at Haytham. Or what had been Haytham.

“You haven’t changed.”