Corporate Sector
D’ian: Surface: Gellar Estate
Dahlia returns from a late brunch with Trichelle at the Corinthos Estate to find Dane and Gemma in the throes of pre-prom anxiety. Dane pads around barefoot in only a pair of starched, black dress pants holding what she hopes is his first glass of whiskey. He is on the com with Preston who is having a fit over the fact that Roman’s parents are forcing him to bring Alia. The pitch in his voice rises to an intolerable level as he explains the Nash’s plan to drag Roman back to Csilla to make good on that arranged marriage to Alia while sealing their alliance with the Csapla family. Seriously, gay space drama is so heavy.
Gemma, on the other hand, sulks about in an annoyed funk.
“What’s up your ass?”
She sighs as if it is extremely difficult to admit it, “I don’t know what to wear.”
“Come on,” she says, pulling her outside and across the estate to the landing pad where Dahlia’s royal cruiser is docked. Inside, they enter the dressing chamber where she taps open a series of doors to reveal an impressive array of clothing – fit for a princess. “I’m sure we can find you something.”
Dahlia pulls several contenders, deciding to prod a bit.
“So, where have you been hiding?”
“What do you mean?”
“Oh please,” she groans. “You disappear from Chandaar for months then show up here as if everything is just fine.”
“You summoned us, remember? About the whole guardianship thing.”
“True, but from where?”
“None of your business,” Gemma says, crossing her arms. “You’re just full of contradictions, Dahlia. You resent me but cheer me on. You grill me about details then want to help. You can’t have it both ways.”
Dahlia takes the two dresses she likes best and hangs each on separate valet rod.
“Says who? You? I don’t think so. Look, we clearly have different priorities but it wouldn’t kill you to loosen up a bit.”
Gemma glares, “Maybe I could if I didn’t fully believe that you have your own agenda here. Don’t think I forgot about that whole mess with your bodyguard Georgie. He was a monster and you knew it the whole time.”
“Aw, it’s sweet that you think so. Can you prove it?”
“I know what I saw.”
“You know what you think you saw.”
“Don’t try and gaslight me,” she bites out. “You aren’t that good.”
“You have no idea.”
“Your arrogance is unfathomable but it will cost you in the end."
“More than your ignorance? I doubt it.”
“I’m not ignorant. I know what you are!”
They are in the midst of a full-blown confrontation, one that has been a long time coming. Dahlia stops fidgeting with the dresses and turns toward her, emerald eyes flaring wide.
“And what am I, Gemma?”
She delivers the line flawlessly, almost with relief.
“You’re a Sith. I think you have the same abilities as your sisters that your captor exploited and they turned you because the easy way has always been your way. You’d never be able to resist all that power because, for a Winton, showmanship trumps substance.”
The flicker of rage beneath Gemma’s pristine surface gives Dahlia and electrifying charge.
“What are you going to do about it?”
Gemma pauses and she seizes the opening,
“That’s right, nothing. You know why? Because that’s the thing about the Jedi – always with the lagging. You may think you’ve chosen the side of the righteous, the one that fights for all that is good in these worlds but, in reality, it’s the side of the naïve and the weak as history has shown time and time again. You’re a smart girl and deep down I think you know it. So, if you are finished grandstanding, we can get back to business.”
“Fine but I don’t trust you, Dahlia.”
She steps back and smiles, motioning behind her.
“I don’t trust you either, Gemma but fashion transcends such things. Now, what do you think?”
Gemma’s eyes wander to the options; the first is a short, sequined dress in a muted cream color and the second, a white, textured wrap gown with a sheer shimmering shawl. She sighs as the weight of their exchange temporarily melts away.
“Option number two. It’s just…beautiful. Thank you."
“My pleas,” she says, handing over the gown. “Now scoot, you’ve got precious time before your friends arrive.”
She watches her go, somehow satisfied with herself in this new role. For a brief moment, they were honest with one another – their true feelings out in the open, exposed. Both accused and neither denied. It is cathartic and dangerous, a release that had been building for years. She knows that they are on opposing sides. If she’d listen to Adubell, Gemma would be dead already, but something prevented her taking that step with her. Dahlia has killed but could she bring herself to kill Gemma? Or Dane for that matter? Even after everything she knows - Rutherford’s lies, Celeste’s complicity, and Melanie’s ruthlessness – she harbors sentiment toward them. Adubell railed into her about the dangers of Sith having attachments. There are only allies and enemies, nothing in between. Dahlia doesn’t think in such limited terms. The Winton’s were never ones to conform and Dahlia is not going to start now.
*
Later that afternoon, Dane, Alka, Gemma, Preston, Roman, and Alia gather along the stairs for the obligatory photage Dahlia has been harassed into taking. They are reveling at the moment when the door chime slices through the chatter. Since no one seems to move, Dahlia reluctantly answers it only to reveal an expertly coifed Riley Patten standing on the other side.
“Well,” she says. “Aren’t you full of surprises?”
“Am I too late?”
“Actually, you’re just in time.”
He steps inside, shocking everyone including a squealing Gemma who rushes into his arms.
“How are you here?”
“Ask me again sometime.”
She beams, “But…how did you even know?”
Riley nods over to Dane who fires back with finger blasters, “Got your message but I had some help.”
Dahlia waves her hands around, “Alright, alright, now that everyone is happy, with the exception of Preston of course, can we please get back to the task at hand?”
Preston and Alia exchange a glacial stare.
Finally, she corals them into a line to get the necessary photage. She captures each of the couples separately for good measure, doing one with Roman and Alia for his parents and one with Roman and Preston for them. Sometimes, she cannot even believe herself. Gemma and Riley gaze at each other longingly which gives Dahlia a pang – but for whom?
As they file out and into the hover limo, Dane, Gemma, and Riley linger behind on the circular stoop with Dahlia.
There is something here, a powerful significance that cannot truly be explained.
Call it a fate or legacy, they all feel it, and that is why they remain.
Dahlia glances between them, “So, here we are. The Four.”
Almost instinctively, they join hands. The connection is like a pulsing current.
Alia’s bitching breaks the spell and they descend the stairs to join their friends. Dahlia watches as the hoverlimo slides away and out of sight, unsure of what just happened or why. The legacy gene, the vision with the masked figure, all four of them together – it presents as a marker for something greater, something beyond anything any of them can even imagine.
-TBC
