Grievous’ P.O.V.
It’d been quiet as of late. Very quiet.
Grievous regarded the barren wasteland before him, his golden eyes surveying the distant horizon.
Rain had hardly spoken in the days that had followed their separation from the Phoenix Cell. The sheer silence had made Grievous realize just how much life Mira had brought to the team. She’d always been the one to offer pleasantries and discourse. Yes, it was true, she led with her heart more than her head, but Rain had once been like that too. Her cold, calculated side had only fully surfaced in recent years.
Her lovers brought it out in her...
With Bane, it hadn’t been surprising. Most all bounty hunters had the same self-serving, cold-blooded nature. But with Trish, no one had seen it coming. Mira had voiced her hopes of Trish positively impacting Rain, and in secret, Grievous had shared those hopes. It was good to see Rain finally free of Bane’s oppressive control, free of his lies and manipulations. Grievous would never forget the nights she’d stayed up, sobbing uncontrollably over something Bane had said or done. She’d always hidden it from Mira, but she couldn’t hide it from him. He’d become her confidante, while Mira had only been further pushed out of her sister’s life without ever knowing it.
Grievous wondered if perhaps he should’ve said something, if things would’ve been different had Mira seen some of her sister’s pain, rather than just her anger. Would she have shown compassion? It was hard to say. After all, Mira had witnessed Rain’s devastation firsthand after Trish left, yet she had seemed strangely distant then.
Grievous unclasped his hands from behind his back, turning toward the ship and making his way up the ramp. He paused in the open doorway, his reptilian eyes sweeping from one side of the ship to the other. By all appearance, there was not a single sign of life onboard.
The General moved toward the bridge, his long stride swallowing the distance quickly.
Rain had been an early riser since as far back as he could recall, though recently she had taken to spending more time in her personal quarters. It was only natural, Grievous supposed. Rain’s organic body required rest, especially after the stress of their alliance with the Phoenix Cell and the wound she had sustained from their encounter with the Sith Lord.
I should not have urged her to form the alliance. It was due to MY council that she agreed to it.
No matter which way he looked at it, the cruel passage of time only seemed to increase the General’s many failures.
I do not deserve her respect...anymore than I did Ro—
He straightened suddenly, a phantom pain lancing through him at the thought.
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No...NO. I can still be...useful to her.
Grievous slid open the door to the cockpit. To his surprise, Rain was standing there, thoughtfully surveying a map displayed via the holotable in the center of the room.
She looked...different. It might’ve just been the obvious wardrobe change, with her casual tan-colored garb replaced by an ebony dress overtop a form-fitting yet breathable bodysuit of matching color. But her demeanor...no, everything about her in that moment made her seem somehow more like herself.
The change was so sudden, so jarring, that Grievous almost didn’t hear her when she addressed him.
“Ah, General, there you are,” she said, lifting her gaze, “Your timing is impeccable. I was deciding our next target and hoped to fill you in. Please,” she gestured him closer, though it took the General a moment to actually respond to her summons.
It was uncanny to see Rain so relaxed after the recent events. Yet the alteration in her behavior seemed genuine. After all, surely he’d known her long enough to tell when she was faking it? There were always tell-tale signs, a furrowed brow or a troubled look hidden behind her eyes. Then again, her acting skills might’ve improved unbeknownst to him.
Grievous turned his attention to the holomap, viewing a planet he didn’t recognize.
“What is this?”
“Myrkr,” Rain responded, “Only a stone’s throw away from the Imperial planet Wayland. It seems of little importance—mostly home to malcontents—but it has nonetheless garnered some Imperial interest.” To the General’s further surprise and confusion, Rain actually smiled. Only slightly, but it reflected some of the enthusiasm he’d witnessed from her in her younger days, back when their team of elite was just beginning to hit their stride. “I’ve never been to Myrkr,” she said softly, “Maybe it’s time I paid a visit.”
Grievous could resist no longer. He had to speak.
“Perhaps,” he said carefully, “You require more time?”
Rain didn’t quite seem to grasp his meaning at first, then realization lit her expression.
“My burn has healed sufficiently,” she reassured her companion, “I believe I am ready to resume my duties.”
“That is not to which I was referring.”
The light in Rain’s eyes seemed to die, any trace of her former smile vanishing completely. An uncomfortable silence followed, prompting Grievous to break eye contact. Rain was next to drop her gaze, though her words had no lack of conviction in them.
“Mira made her choice,” she said, seemingly staring right through the hull of their ship and into the great beyond, “There is no point in dwelling on it.”
Grievous wasn’t sure what to make of that, let alone how to respond to it. Rain regarded him wordlessly for a moment, apparently taking his hesitation as a silent insistence.
“If you wish me to wait, I will wait,” she relented, “But we can only delay so long.”
No…
No, that wasn’t fair to her. He needed to trust her.
Trust her, as he had for over a decade past.
Trust her to make her own decisions.
“That won’t be necessary,” he said at last, “Doubtless, you know your limits better than I. If you believe yourself to be ready, that is the only confirmation I require.”
Rain nodded, and Grievous was relieved to see the light returning to her eyes.
“Well then,” she said, her smile reviving, “Shall we begin making our plans?”