The past is never where you left it (Cline)

[Zereth Lancer]

Setting his drink down, Zereth let his eyes follow it to the tabletop where they remained for some time. The question was mulled over in his mind, and his own life experience was relived looking for the answer. He knew what he thought in his heart, but he also knew what existed in his soul. He knew those moments of absolute darkness, when all the light seemed to blur and fade, and all that he is was stripped away and he knew only fury. Many traumatic events, many lost comrades, and his response was always to fall back into that black pit. Once it was a weapon to be unleashed when his master commanded, and then it became a hidden blade to fall back on when he justified that the situation required it. When he felt that they deserved it.

"No." Was his answer in the end, and then another long pause as he scratched at the tabletop with a fingernail. "I don't believe anyone can rise above the darkside on their own. I could not. I thought I could. I always told myself that I would not end up like the others, that I could stop whenever I wanted. Michael, I am living the best, truest life I've ever known. I've risen above so much. Conquered my many demons. The darkside is still as much a part of me as it was all those years ago when I abducted your friends. I know moments of rage and unspeakable violence. The memories of which haunt me. The only difference now is that I also have the lightside, and I like to think it balances my soul. The darkside powers my heart but the light gives it direction; tempers it's hot edge. I do not think I could live without it, the darkside.

I did not get here on my own. I've had so much help. Friends and allies who helped me, shaped me. Many of them are gone now. I keep the lessons they taught me here." His hand slipped off the tabletop and connected with his breast, pressing the palm against his heart. "Once gone but never forgotten. In my darkest moments, when I am alone and vulnerable, the whispers of the darkside are ever present. Dark promises of power and stature and the cost is always blood. That is what the darkside is. It is incredible, lonely power that binds as much as it strengthens. Without perspective you cannot see the black waters have risen to your throat, and without help you will never pull yourself from the pool. You find purchase in moments of clarity, but the edge is slick and you inevitably slip back in. You need an anchor to pull on. A purpose, a mission; friends. Allies."

[Michael Cline]

Mike stared at the table, listening somberly as Lancer gave him the exact answer he'd been afraid of hearing. He'd known. Of course he'd known, it was obvious every time he got mad, every time he felt the thrill and rush of the darkside. Lonely. Lancer described it as lonely. Mike wasn't alone though, was he? He had the organization, Mr. Prent and Ms. Sasseeri. Hell Olorin if the old cuss ever stopped by for a visit. He pursed his lips and shrank into his shoulders a bit more, no. That's not what Lancer was saying though, and he knew it.

Michael's training had never been completed, more so he wasn't sure if it had he'd be anything better than what the Sith Order had been. Another 'Darth' whatever. Jirettai... He shook his head slightly, no. Not that. He wasn't going to become that. Those damn nightmares were not going to become real. It would have been so much easier to just stay mad, to just get his revenge on Zereth Lancer and feel better about it. But that wasn't what he'd gotten. Instead he'd gotten a repentant man with life experience he'd desperately needed to hear. Michael absolutely needed guidance, direction and... training. He wasn't going to go anywhere but down the longer he put that off.

He felt his jaw tighten and his brow knit. He liked his work. He liked working for Ms. Sasseeri. She'd been good to him when no one else ever had. He couldn't leave that. The confusion in his stomach sent the alcohol now coating it into turmoil and he lost any interest in continuing to drink as what he'd had so far threatened to come back up. He couldn't drop everything, but he also couldn't abandon his obligations here. A flicker of anger spurned in his chest at being forced into such a no win situation and he tried to snuff it out before it sparked into an inferno directed, unfairly, at Lancer for telling him the truth.

"I'll manage." He grumbled low and withdrawn, at war with the desire to storm out and the curiosity to ask more. He needed to get away from this man before he either destroyed what he'd made for himself here, or burnt him to the ground to try and pretend this conversation had never happened. "It's been fun." He said standing, his head an absolute mess of conflicting emotions and desires. He held a credit chit up to the barkeep and sat it on the table with a nod before turning for the door. The tension in his frame almost a dare for Lancer or anyone else for that matter to try and talk him out of going.

[Zereth Lancer]

There it was again. The anger. Wild and untamed, like a spark in a primeval forest. It could fizzle out and be gone with the right wind, or a sudden rain, but it could also burn down the entire secret forest where nobody would ever see it until it was too late. It was frightening to see. Zereth understood that sort of anger. That had been him once upon a time, after escaping from Zanon with no memory or direction. The only desire he had was to destroy. The Juraiya had taught him to better control that, and self-reflection and Jedi doctrine had further developed it. Michael had no such help.

It broke his heart to see the young man so lost.

Even as Michael stood up to leave, Zereth mimicked the motion in tune. There was a blur in the air, like a gasp of wind, and Zereth was back in front of Michael; this time holding his hand out; a simple flimsi card held between two fingers. There was nothing on the card save a single string of numbers. A comm number.

"It is not my place to tell you how to live your life, Michael, so I will not. Should you ever find yourself in need you can reach me at this number. I know of a safe place for our kind, and I have powerful allies that protect it. Whatever you need, I will be there for you."

Zereth had never had a lifeline in his life. He had always gone from one terrible situation to the next, and any level of peace he had ever found was immediately ruined by his own hand or the surfacing of his terrible past. He had been forced to sacrifice so much to keep those he loved safe. So many he had left behind in the middle of the night, never to see again, all so that whomever had come creeping on his doorway would trouble them no more, and some he had not left fast enough. Last he saw Ashe she was still recovering from that droid assassin. He could never see her again. Zanon would come again. He always did. Like a cockroach running up the drain. Not once had anyone offered him a safe place, a home, or a strong shoulder to lean on. Now it was his turn to be the very thing he had needed most.

He was not going to let Michael end up the same way as he did. Could not. Would not.

That's my promise...

[Michael Cline]

Mike's vision was clouded by anger and confusion to such a degree he'd nearly barreled right into Lancer when the man had used the Force to get in front of him. He stopped himself just before he stepped into his form and immediately took a step back defensively, instinct telling him to strike now while he had the chance. Cline pushed it down, forced it back, kept himself from making even more of a scene here than it had already become. Zereth wasn't trying to fight him he was holding out a slip of flimsi?

"...you can reach me at this number..."

Mike stared at the offered number like it might bite him if he reached for it and blinked in momentary confusion. A safe place, huh? Friends, allies... that's what Lancer had called them before. Maybe this was just the same damn attempt to recruit him the Order had tried before, maybe it was all an attempt to drag him back to... Mike closed his eyes and took a breath before he slipped down a path of paranoia that would only lead to violence. The emotions around Lancer were still the same as before, though a new one was coming through loudly now. Concern. Zereth... was concerned and it didn't seem to be for his own well-being.

Mike reached out a hand and hesitated in front of the slip, rubbing his thumb and forefinger together like he had to consider the action carefully. Finally he took it, a near snapping motion to grab it before he changed his mind. "Alright." He said far too quickly, his body still a mess of confused energy and adrenaline. "Alright, alright." He repeated looking at the number he now held. "Okay, alright." He tried to reel himself back in a long, drawn out breath releasing between tight lips as he put the flimsi into a pocket. "I'm not... Listen I'm not saying I'm going to call. You get that right? You UNDERSTAND that. I'm not saying that." He emphasized it to the man in front of him, locking eyes with him. "But I'll hold, yeah, okay, I'll hold onto this. right? Just in case. JUST IN CASE." He wasn't sure if he was trying to convince Lancer or himself.

"Well..." He shook his head slightly, "Yeah, anyway." He couldn't say thank you. Knew he should at least out of politeness, but just couldn't make the words come. "We should stop mucking about. I got work tomorrow." Forget calling off sick, Mike needed to burn off this energy and the surest way would be finding someone cheating the casino who needed a good 'talking to.' He wasn't even sure he'd manage to get to sleep tonight.

[Zereth Lancer]

"I understand."

The faintest smile lifted the edges of his mouth. Even so little a movement would have been alien when he had been with the Sith Order. That had not been a place for smiles, and even since leaving it he found it a difficult emotion to reveal. Happiness. He was happy with where this encounter had gone. It was as good a result as he could ever hope for. Zereth could tell that Michael was far too proud, and much too angry, to ever ask for help or take it if it was offered directly. This was the best way. Indirect, an option, that allowed him the agency to choose to accept it or not. This fork in the road still saw them parting on to their own roads, but it left a door open should Michael ever take it.

He had done all that he could.

"May the force be with you, Michael."

He offered a single hand, held out, open and inviting. There are been no pleasantry on their meeting. Hopefully there could be some on the departure. Everything was different now. When they met they were as good as enemies poised on opposite ends of a battlefield so hazy they had not seen the other until they were right upon each other. Now the smoke was clearing and they could see each other for what they were. They left not as adversaries, certainly not as allies, but perhaps as just men trying to make their own in this chaotic galaxy.

[Michael Cline]

Michael considered the hand, what it meant. The terms they'd be leaving on. The situation had been much different than he'd expected. Lancer had been much different than he expected. A voice deep inside told him to smack that hand away, that Lancer was the blame for everything that had happened. But Cline knew that wasn't true, knew the man wasn't the source of all his pent up anger. And in the long run, he'd been helpful, hadn't he? He'd given you the first real update on that bastard Lotus you'd had since everything had fallen apart. Gave you leads to finally follow up on. He'd even offered advice and given you a way to contact him if you ever needed help.

Mike rubbed thumb and forefinger together as he stared at the hand before finally grasping it and giving it a single, terse shake. "Yeah. Force, with you as well, or however the saying goes." He considered it all, everything that happened, the new contact he'd made, the information he'd learned. It was a net positive. He'd gained from this, and that wasn't something Mike could say he'd had a ton of success with in a while. Everything always seemed to fall out from under him, so at least this one time things had worked out for the better.

He turned from the man and walked back to the door, glancing behind to the man as he went to leave. "Still. Probably not a good idea to hang around. No offense meant, but trouble loves company if you get my drift." Mike didn't need anymore attention drawn to him than he already feared there was, after someone had gone to the trouble of mucking up his connection to the Force with that Ysalamiri business. "See ya, Lancer." he walked out the door with a wave over his shoulder.

[Zereth Lancer]

Zereth watched him go, red eyes tracking the red head until he was out of sight. He wanted to follow, wanted to wrap the force around himself like a blanket and steal into the casino to make sure that things were as Michael said. He wanted to find even just one transgression for him to avenge, so that he could shatter this glass castle and let the galaxy see it's ugliness through uninhibited eyes. This was a bastion of the Empire, after all. Surely if he looked hard enough he would find some sin to burn away.

But Michael was right, and he had already been here too long. The Empire would not remain blind forever, and eventually they would catch on to his presence and send the Imperial Knights to come for him. He had yet to meet them in combat, preferring to leave long before they arrived, and he would be lying if he said he did not wish to fight them, to face such a challenge of clashing blades and ideology. Perhaps they could be swayed from their pedestals. He imagined they were not all bad. Still, that was for another time.

Stealing himself he stole back into the concourse, back to the transit center where he booked his return flight that would take him round about back to home. He looked forward to the long trip. It would give him time to meditate and think.