False Dichotomies

18. Siblings;

"No."

She wants a private conversation. It's a small thing, basic. So, naturally, this is when Quin has remembered he's upset with his padawan-sister. Honestly, Fox is impressed he lasted this long.

They like to think they know Quin fairly well at this point. Known him through the nights when Fox is trembling and Quin is the one picking up the pieces, known him through the mornings when Quin sits on the edge of the bed unable to get up and Fox is the one teasing out what's wrong until getting on with the day feels doable. One of those mornings— a much earlier morning than the usual, thanks to a nightmare— Quin talked for a long time about a little girl he'd once known, a child who almost died to protect the younglings in the Crèche, a child who almost died saving the life of her master and a group of delegates, a child who almost died protecting the vode under her command time and time again, a child who turned her back on all of it, a child who hunted Quin across the galaxy until moving him to Coruscant was the only way to stop him from being a liability.

That's why Fox knows, no matter what Quin may say, he's got no problem with Estai having a private conversation to get information they need. In fact, he probably understands exactly why the conversation needs to be private. Quin's just angry.

He's angry because he doesn't believe her. Angry because he does. Angry because Master Tholme never told him about her deep cover role. Angry because she never did. Angry because one of his theories not even that long ago was that his padawan-sister's betrayal was an undercover mission, but he gave up on that. He gave up on her.

If Estai is telling the truth— and, really, she's got no reason to be lying now— Quin's never going to forgive himself.

"Quin-"

"I thought you were coming clean, or have you still got something left to hide?"

"Yes."

Quin smiles, a smirk Fox is very familiar with. "Then you shouldn't need a-" The smirk drops off his face. "What?"

Estai pulls her hands behind her back, feet shoulder-width apart. It's at ease, but it's a soldier's at ease, a vod's at ease. It's not that little girl from years ago Quin told Fox about, the one that would curl up small on the sofa or tuck herself into strange nooks in the Jedi Archives, reading something either way. "Quinlan Vos, Shadow of the Jedi Order, I was on an undercover mission for two years, I broke that cover a handful of days ago. I have information that I cannot share with just anyone, including you."

Fox is about a second too late to realise Quin is about to do something really stupid. With how quickly Quin can move when he wants to, a second is really all it takes.

Estai's back hits the wall hard. The impact is enough to make him worry about this place's neighbours. She doesn't make a sound though, not a grunt or a gasp.

Quin holds his forearm against her throat— not her chest, her throat— and keeps her pinned there. Fox doesn't need to see his face to know he's scowling at her. "You lost the privilege to keep secrets so you tell me now: what are you hiding?"

She looks back at him, the picture of calm. Despite how it looks, Quin is being careful because Fox knows what a voice sounds like when there's pressure on the windpipe. "You can threaten me all you like, but I kept these secrets from the Sith for two years and I'll keep them from you."

Fox pulls Quin away from her. He goes notably easily. Fox was definitely too late to stop him from doing something stupid, definitely too late to stop him from doing something he now regrets. "Would a text comm work?" Fox suggests. "You could warn them not to include identifying information."