jelenedrake

hapter 5 of Purpose Beyond Redemption. Or at least part of it, it might serve to be a little longer. I have to take a break and finger out how to put what happens next into words. Details, details. So many details.



The crowds on Taris weren't as bad as Carth thought they would be, considering all the off-worlders trapped there by the quarantine. He made his way down the bright tarmacs without incident. As sad as it sounded, even with the few hours he has been wandering it's capital city, Carth could tell why the Republic wasn't in a hurry to save this back water world from the Sith. The buildings had once been grand, but when the ever-shifting economic structure changed with the new war, it became too opulent. The Republic Senate started porting their supply lines through more easily defensible worlds closer to the Core Planets. Taris had no other means of economic support, so they slowly slid into decay. It showed in their grand buildings, and it showed in their severe distrust of outsiders and aliens. They blamed off-worlders and non-human sentients for the Republic changing their trade routes. Couldn't be any farther off base, but for a small world that had once tasted glory, there was nothing easier to blame others for their problems. But you would think that they would've done SOMETHING to make them valuable to the Republic again, instead of bitching about it.

He had learned some interesting things at the cantina Kadir had directed him to. Carth loved cantinas during covert ops. It made information gathering SO easy. He had found out that only one other escape pod besides his had landed in the Upper City. A majority of them had fallen into the Under City, which from all accounts sounded like a Very Bad Thing from the way that the people were talking. No mention of Bastila being found, but there was a large reward out for any "Republic Officers" that were turned in for "questioning." Carth was quite happy to hear that a majority of the citizens he had over heard made it VERY clear what they thought of the Sith's "Friendly Occupation." So it seemed that unless Bastila fell into the hands of the very, very greedy, she should be safe long enough for Carth to find her. He'd have to ask Kadir if he knew a way to get down there when he got back to the apartments, but first he had some shopping to do.

Zelka's Medical Supply Shop was deserted, which Carth didn't find surprising with the Sith cracking down on troublemakers, no one wanted to start anything. Well, at least no one SMART wanted to start any trouble. Zelka was a quiet man, and moved with the slow deliberation that Carth had come to associate with all Healers in their "off" time. You get injured in front of them though, and they turn into a hyperactive Jawa in a Droid Swap Meet.

"How can I help you, young man?"

Young man? Hadn't heard that in a while. "I just need to replace these," Carth held out the supplies he had used the night before.

Zelka raised an eyebrow at Carth, "So you're the Republic that Kadir is hiding out. He said you might be by."

Carth just stared at Zelka. As much as he liked Kadir, he didn't know anything about this man other than that he was supplying illegal aliens with healing goods.

Zelka seemed amused by Carth's silence, "Hey, don't worry so much. Here, let me show you something."

Zelka pushed a box of new medical supplies across the counter to Carth and walked over to a nondescript wall. He waved his hand at a spot in the middle of the wall and suddenly the wall slid open to another part of the shop. There were dozens of kolto tanks lining the walls, each of them were occupied. Several of them had medical droids tending to them. Carth recognized several of the men in the tanks from the Endar Spire.

He whirled to face Zelka, "How-"

"I told you not to worry. These poor chaps crashed right next to my shop. I just had to take them in. There, now you know one of my secrets. So you know I won't tell yours."

Relief flooded over Carth, "I need something for a high grade fever. And some blood packs. I also need something for pain and a muscle relaxant. There was stuff in the apartment, but I don't know how old it was or if it was safe to use on a human's metabolism."

"Whoa, whoa, slow down. You have someone injured back at the apartment?"

Carth nodded.

"Then you should bring them here, it would be the best way." Zelka walked over to a cabinet and started peering at labels.

"That won't do, she hasn't been awake since the crash, so I can't move her without drawing attention to ourselves. You can't come by because the Sith have had search parties down there three times since last night. I don't want to be held responsible if you get caught down there. Kadir told me how much the tenants there depend on you to get the healing they need. I won't risk it."

Zelka turned and studied Carth, "It's good you grasp the levity of the situation there," He pulled several things off the shelf, "Then again, it should be expected of someone who knows that mixing medicines is different for each species."

"Assessing the levity of any given situation is part of my job, Zelka."

"Just as it is mine. I'll give you these, but if your patient doesn't wake up in three days, I want you to get her here. Any way you can. Any longer than that, and it might be because she's not waking up at all."

*****************

Back at the apartment, Carth's charge was still sleeping when he returned. Her face had lost the peaceful expression she had last night and was replaced with droplets of sweat beading on her brow. Carth pumped her full of the fever medication Zelka had given him, and some nutrients Zelka had insisted he give her. "She can't eat because she's asleep, but you can't let her body starve," Zelka had said. Carth believed him, he was a doctor after all. After making sure she was comfortable, Carth went over to the window of their apartment that over looked Taris. For a moment he was struck by how different, but similar, it looked to his view in Coruscant. He sighed and pulled out the datapad he had squirreled away inside his flight jacket.

"Well, there is no putting it off any longer. Time to find out what the Republic knows about you, beautiful."

((more copy and paste un-beta'd KOTOR Fanfic. My apologies))

Ugh...did anyone get that swoop racer's ID number?

Carth's head was trying to spin itself off his shoulders and he felt the familiar sensation of warmth and the copper taste of blood in his mouth. He was hanging upside down and there was blood trickling down into his eyes. That cold thing was still in his stomach, letting him know he hadn't been out for long. It still sang of battle and Sith blood that had been spilled. He dangled from his escape pod seat, trying desperately to blink the blood out of his eyes. I couldn't have been out for long. My ears are still ringing from impact. I got to get out of here though, before the Sith arrive

A moan came from the other side of the escape pod and Carth realized that what he thought was an empty chair was actually the seat that had formerly been beside him. It had snapped from the wall at some point in their re-entry and now there was someone trapped beneath it.

"Schutta."

His mind was still foggy from the impact, and the cold thing in his gut wrapped around his core and took over. Carth watched as if from outside himself as his body unbuckled itself and fell as lightly as it could either side of the broken seat. He had done this several times during the Mandalorian Wars, and countless times on Telos, his body took over as his heart and mind went somewhere else. Not wanting to deal with the pain of dealing with the injured right away, he'll deal with it later. Like he always did. His mind barely registered that the body he was rescuing was a woman and it appeared as though she was bleeding badly from a gash in her side. It looked as though she had a cut on her head to match his somewhere beneath her ebony hair. He recognized her from the Endar Spire but he mind was too far in it's own world to put everything together right away.

He remembered her climbing into the escape pod before him. He remembered the explosion that rocked the Endar Spire as they jettisoned into space. He supposed that had something to do with the chair being knocked loose. It was also the likely culprit of his gashed head, and his inability to remember anything before the landing.

He gathered the survival packs that were stowed away in the compartments. Carth was beginning to hear airships and sirens. The Sith would be here soon; they had to get out of here and fast. He spared a quick moment to pray that the woman had no spinal injuries before gathering her up into his arms. She was lighter than she should've been and she began moaning in pain the moment he picked her up.

The bit of Carth that was still feeling hoped for her sake he found shelter. And soon.

********************************

The main corridor of the apartment complex was dark, dingy, and dirty. And not necessarily in that order. The smell of tabaac smoke and the stench of desperate living wrinkled Carth's nose and drove the last remaining hold his cold anger had on him. He could hear skittering along the walls that he hoped didn't indicate vermin, but the smell made him think that it might be a hope made in vain. Carth passed countless doors, each one cracked open a tiny bit and what little light was in the hall revealed glittering, alien features. Features that quickly disappeared in a rush as each door slid shut as he past.

Carth was beginning to lose hope he would find shelter, he clutched the unknown woman in his arms. He had to tend to her wounds soon, or she would lose too much blood to be saved. He already had the deaths of countless soldiers and civilians from the Endar Spire weighing down on him, he didn't need the death of the only one to make it to him and the escape pods weighing on him as well.

I should've ordered them all to the escape pods right away. What was I thinking of ordering them to the Bridge? No one made it in time to help. I probably got countless people killed trying to follow my orders when they should've just run to the nearest escape pod bay.

"You a Republic, soldier?" A voice, dry as rice paper, crackled out from the darkness. It grated against Carth's skin and he felt that cold part of him grip his chest. He was so lost in his thoughts and self-recrimination that he didn't sense the owner of the voice approaching.

"Just a man looking for shelter. Who's asking?" Carth squinted at the dark corner the voice came from.

A light flickered on in a hidden alcove Carth didn't notice before, when his eyes adjusted to the sudden brightness, he recognized it as a janitor's station. An old man wearing a janitor's uniform shambled out from the corner and leered at him.

"No need to lie, boyo. You stink of battle and blood," the man pointed a wrinkled finger at him, "You're one of those Republic soldiers that escaped from the space battle above, aren't you? A Sith sure as hell wouldn't have come in here all tippy-toe like you did."

Carth bristled; he didn't like the vibes he was getting from the old man. His guns were unreachable, unless he wanted to drop the woman in his arms. With her head injury, that struck him as a Very Bad Idea. Just like how letting Bastila leave without him had been a Bad Idea and just how him taking this assignment had been a Terribly Bad Idea.

"Look, all we need is a place to stay. We were just civilians on that Republic ship. There's no need to call the Sith."

"Call the Sith?" the old man laughed, "Why would I go and do a thing like that? And don't lie to me again, sonny. She might have been a civilian, but YOU scream soldier from head to toe, don't need no uniform to tell."

Carth sighed as the tension rushed out of his body all at once and he grinned wearily at the old man, "I get that all the time. Too much time at the academy I guess. So, do you have a place we can stay? I need to treat her wounds quickly if I am going to be of any help to her."

"I sure do, boyo. Follow me," the old man shuffled past Carth and led him down the hall, "Name's Kadir, by the by, used to serve in the Republic myself before my leg went all bum on me. Now I'm just in charge of keeping this here building clean and in working order."

Carth smartly kept his mouth shut and tried to shift his burden into a more comfortable position.

"You couldn't have picked a better place to hide out though. Nobody but illegal aliens living here. Sith raids quite frequently but the never bother with this apartment." Kadir stopped in front of an apartment. Carth could see nothing that set it apart from all the others.

"What makes it so special? Last thing we need is a Sith searching our hideout."

A wide grin broke out across Kadir's face, gracing Carth with an intimating view of some brown teeth, "The Sith think the door is broken."

Kadir demonstrated by pressing the door pad, it gave a sickly sounding chirrup but didn't open. Then he reached up and touched a nondescript panel several feet above the door pad and the door slid open.

"I can jam the lock for you so not even that panel will work. Once the Sith finish searching the apartments I'll come back and unlock the doors for you. This is where a lot of the tenants hide their contraband. Healing supplies are behind a panel in the refresher room. Food and booze in a panel in the floor of the kitchen. Weapons are in there too, but I kindly ask you leave those alone. The Sith like to make life hell for the other tenants. They lock up people for any excuse they can think of. So they keep most of their questionable stuff in here. Make use of whatever healing devices you need, just try and keep it light. We can't always make it to Zelka's and he takes a big risk every time he helps an alien."

Carth stepped into the apartment; it was much cleaner than the hallway. The smell was even gone, he supposed it was kept that way to keep the Sith from bothering the tenants here too much. Carth strode over to one of the beds and laid the woman down as gently as he could. Kadir puttered behind him and disappeared into what Carth assumed was the refresher. He turned a few minutes later with some medical supplies in hand.

Carth glanced over his shoulder at the old man, "So what's wrong with being an alien here?"

Kadir snorted, "Most Tarisians like to think they're high and mighty. Makes them feel better about Taris not being the intergalactic trading hub anymore. You've got Upper City Taris, that's where we are now, aliens aren't allowed to hold housing here and any businesses are 'gently' persuaded to take up residence in Lower City Taris. Lower City is just a bunch of swoop gangs and lowlifes. And whatever your business here is, avoid Under City at all costs. There is a disease running rampant through all the outcasts down there. So you're best bet it to wait up here for the Sith blockade to leave."

"Sith blockade?!" Carth dropped the med pack he was unwrapping. Finding Bastila will do no good if we can't leave... Get it together, Onasi. One thing at a time. Get the girl healed up, find Bastila, and then worry about a way off this rock.

"Yeah, nasty little buggers have been bleeding us out for a couple of months now with that damned blockade. Word came down on the holo-vids that now they're not letting anyone off world anymore. So, you take your time resting up. It looks like you'll be here for a while. I'm going to go now and lock you all up. I'll come back and release the lock once the Sith finish searching for Republic survivors. They should be here any minute knocking things over, so keep her quiet and you should be fine."

The old man turned to go and Carth reached out for him, "Hey, Kadir...thanks. I'll find someway to repay you. I promise."

"Don't worry about it, soldier to soldier. They always help each other out."

((Also known as me copy and pasting NINE YEAR OLD fanfic from old LJ. Christ I am old))

There was no life in the apartment overlooking the skyline of Coruscant. There was a man, but there was no life, just existence. No noise came from the holovid, no light seeped from under the doors, and no sounds of movement. Nothing at all indicated that someone lived there. The air within the apartment was dark and heavy, a feeling that was reflected by the man sitting in the sill of the open window. He looked down at the sprawling metropolis and the bustling life and noise just echoed against him. He was empty. No matter how many bottles of Corellian whiskey he went through, nothing within him stirred. There was no slurred speech, no stumbling about, or fevered ranting. No matter how many glasses he poured, there was no effect. They didn’t fill the hole aching inside him, did nothing to cool the smoldering anger. There was just emptiness, where life used to be. Carth Onasi was a shell of a man.

His skin was slick with the alcohol-induced fever as he continued to stare out his lonely apartment window. It had been days since he had eaten anything with real substance, and it seemed as though he had spent just as long contemplating in the window. There were no thoughts of suicide filling him, just an aching emptiness. Beyond that emptiness was a slow, smoldering anger, one that Carth had long learned to suppress. It was that anger that got him placed on an “extended leave of absence” from the Republic Admiralty. It was that anger that caused him to try and hijack a Republic Starship, and according to the report his plan was to “try and shove it down that schutta Saul’s throat.” It hadn’t been pretty, and after a night of sleeping it off in the Republic brig he had been told to go home and rest. But there was no rest for him, his only purpose was revenge, and it seemed he would never get that revenge. Until his holovid rang.

It took him several minutes to register the sound; he had almost forgotten what it sounded like. He hastened to put several empty bottles out of view of the holovid screen before he placed himself before it, unconsciously standing at military rest. The screen flickered to life and the image of an older woman wavered before him, even though the image was solid blue he recognized her and her Republic uniform immediately. There was a slight stirring of excitement in his breast, and he quickly squashed it down. No reason to raise his hopes for nothing.

“Greetings, Admiral Dodonna,” Carth answered, “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“A little of this a little of that, how are you holding up?” The older woman’s eyes misted with pity, Carth hated that look. He always got that look from everyone. He was beginning to hate their sympathy, and it never did anything to ease the ache within.

“About as well as can be expected, Admiral,” he responded stiffly, feeling that familiar void of emotion pass over him. It made it easier to handle empty condolences and reassures of “It is the way of the Force,” that offered him no comfort.

“I see. Well, I’m sure you know this wasn’t much of a social call.”

“I gathered as much from the uniform, Dodonna. Social calls don’t usually involve full dress.”

A real smile passed across Dodonna’s face, “Yes, I should have known that I couldn’t get anything past Carth Onasi. To get straight to the point, because I know how you like to be direct: you’ve been reactivated.”

That cold anger uncoiled in his gut and grumbled at him like a hungry beast, “Reactivated?”

“Yes, we have a mission for you. The Republic has granted a command ship to Jedi Council. They’re conducting some sort of scouting mission, and we’re providing personnel for them. We want you there in an advisory position to their Commander.”

“A scouting mission?” Carth furrowed his brow in confusion, “So why do they need Republic assistance?”

“The Jedi in charge of the mission is Jedi Bastila.”

The beast within him was growling now, its cold anger creeping through his veins and warmed him to his core. Bastila and her Battle Meditation. Being around Bastila would bring fighting. Fighting would mean Sith. Sith meant Saul. That desire for revenge tore through him, singing promises to him that he struggled to hide from Dodonna.

For a long moment he just stared at Dodonna.

“Where do I report in?”

*****************

There were voices… and there was blackness surrounding her, choking her, and she didn’t have a name… This realization struck her more than the aching cold darkness she was floating in….”Why don’t I have a name?” She thought and the whispers grew louder, “If they would shut up long enough I could remember…”

The voices grew, and her head ached. Their soft cadence stabbed into her mind… probing and searching…the buzz grew louder and she clapped her hands over her ears to keep them out.

”STOP IT!” she screamed into the void, the echo coming back and knocking her to her knees. Part of her was amused, how can she fall to her knees if there is nothing to stand on?

This is the only way, I FEEL it.

The voices were clearer now, but they still hurt… molten carbonite being poured through her ears and into her mind…freezing and burning at the same time, acid coursing down the invisible channels of her mind.

What if it just brings the Dark Lord back?

There must be another way…

Whatever it was, she just wanted them to leave her alone. Whatever they were talking about, she had nothing to do with it. Didn’t she?

This is our only hope. I can handle it. I swear to you. Give me a chance.

The conviction in that voice tightened around her, possessive and tight, crushing her with an almost physical vice. It hurts to breathe… and my head… why are they in my head?

Very well, and remember what she was, what she could become again. Do not let her fall again. Be always mindful of the Path of the Dark Side. Once you start down the Dark Path, forever will it dominate your destinies.

Suddenly the void opened, and she saw light. It pulled to her. It promised her no more voices and no more pain. She would be able to breathe again. She struggled towards that light like a drowning man floundering to break to the surface of water. Suddenly, without warning, the light streaked forward, blurring together like star lines in hyperspace. It blinded her, and tears stung her eyes as she was thrust forward…. What was my name? Images rushed at her too quickly to comprehend, filling her until she was overflowing, her mind full of their heady scents and sensations. What was her name?

Koren Renata.

**********

I would rather be buffing the floors of a Rancor pit than be here right now. Being back on board a command ship wasn’t the dream he was hoping it to be, although he felt more alive these past few weeks than he had in over two years. His constant source of irritation: Bastila Shan. Bastila had to be the most annoying Jedi that Carth had ever met. If he had known what he was signing up for, he would’ve run for the hills. Babysitting a prideful Jedi was the last thing on his list of “fun things to do.” She was headstrong, and while she was in charge of the Endar Spire, she had no head for strategy or military thinking. Bastila just ordered everyone around and glowered when it took too long or they didn’t understand her. She was very young as well, and for some reason it made worse her “immortality and know-it-all” attitude of youth. Carth was on board in an advisory position, but any advice he tried to give her was answered with disdain.

As she kept clamoring on at the rear of the bridge to her Jedi entourage, Carth was beginning to think she was vying for a position as the most annoying human being as well. Barely covering a grimace, Carth leaned over his; no he corrected himself, Bastila’s Navigator. “How are we doing, Lieutenant? Still on course for Dantooine?”

“Everything is in the green, Captain Onasi,” Lieutenant Jaris glanced at Carth expectantly, “We should be there within 6 hours. Give or take.”

“Good. If I have to hear ‘Are you so certain the Jedi Council would agree’ one more time, I might have to hurt someone, and I don’t care if they carry a lightsaber.”

Carth was rewarded with several snickers that were quickly covered by fits of coughing and he felt slightly better. Now if I could only do something about this thrice-damned headache.

“Captain Onasi,” his headache called, and Carth straightened with a groan before turning to face Bastila.

“Yes, Jedi Bastila?”

“Are you sure that we’re on the most direct course for Dantooine?”

How can she make the word “direct” so coarse and pompous sounding? “Well, if by most ‘direct’ you mean ‘safest,’ then yes we are.” Carth clasped his hands behind his back in military rest to hide the fists he was making.

Bastila closed the distance across the Bridge of the Endar Spire in long, graceful strides, her entourage several paces behind her. They made it look choreographed, like they practiced it in that Academy of theirs. Bastila stopped in front of him, scrunching her face like she had stepped in bantha droppings. That headache was throbbing now, and Carth had a feeling it was a few words from a full-blown migraine.

“We were ordered to report immediately to Dantooine,” Bastila had a nice voice, melodious, it was a shame it didn’t match her personality. “I’m sure the Jedi Council would not agree with us taking unnecessary detours.”

More coughing. Out of Carth’s peripheral vision, he noticed several quickly lowered heads.

Yep, it’s a migraine. “Jedi Bastila,” Carth mentally counted to ten, she was just a kid after all, yelling wouldn’t help anything, “I know I am here purely in an advisory role, but I fail to see how flying into known Sith space will make our trip any safer. We’re over-staffed and loaded down with civilians. I am not going to put their lives in danger so you can speak to the Jedi Council in person a few hours earlier. Especially when a coded message would be much faster than flying close to the enemy.” He added snidely.

Bastila’s eyes flashed, and he could tell he hit a nerve, “Captain Onasi, if we may talk privately.”

“Am I going to get some answers?”

“We must talk. Privately.” She turned on her heel and called back over her shoulder with a tone in her voice that boded no arguments, “And change our course. We must arrive in time.”

Carth nodded to Jaris, who began re-entering coordinated in the navi-computer. Carth could already feel the Endar Spire making course adjustments by the time he reached the corridor.

About damn time I got some answers around here. It had taken far too long for the Jedi to come clean with this “top-secret” mission of theirs. It involved Bastila, the Republic’s most important weapon in this war. So there was no way this was simply a “scouting mission.” There were plenty of scouting missions in deployed right now. No need for more with a ship as heavily staffed as this one, and certainly no call for possibly the most important Jedi alive today to be there with her entourage. Dodonna was very closed-lipped about what sort of mission the Jedi were on. He didn’t think it was an issue of her not telling him everything, but rather the Jedi not telling her everything. He had known Dodonna longer than that, and she wouldn’t let him fly in the blind, and the fact that the Jedi Council was willing to do so with so many Republic citizens had put him on his guard ever since he read the manifest.

Too many people, most of them untrained, and the Endar Spire not the right kind of ship for flying into Sith-patrolled space without a much larger escort. The extra crew made them suspicious. They were manned like they were headed for the front lines, but with no weapons to use once they got there. Compound that to the fact that Bastila had been ordering them to orbit planets he knew to be under Sith surveillance… she was looking for something, that much he was certain of. She was going to get them all killed before she found what she was looking for. It was all too confusing. He had tried diplomacy, maybe switching tactics would help. As he followed Bastila to the Captain’s quarters, Carth sincerely hoped their upcoming conversation would help ease his tension headache. But he doubted it.

Had a massive surge of Atton Rand feels (as my queue will indicate this next week) I noticed that kotorfanmedia’s site seems to be down for good so I thought I would rescue this from the depths of my livejournal. This actually won a Valentine’s Day livejournal contest gimmick AGES ago. Enjoy.

I’ve Got a Good Feeling About This… The Exile… uhm… visits Atton while he “fixes” the Ebon Hawk on Onderon.


Pretending to be busy is one thing that Atton Rand is good at. It comes in nice and useful in all kinds of situations. Whether it is avoiding a guard by pretending to enjoy the services of a companionable joy-girl or avoiding unwanted attention by staying in the background in a bustling crowd. It is a skill that has all kinds of uses, and having an inordinate amount of free time on his hands gave him a chance to practice it. Atton was good at it too, almost as a good as a shady swoop mechanic, but those guys are pros when it comes to wasting time.

Currently he was laying shirtless on his back underneath the pilot’s station tinkering around with loose wires on the Ebon Hawk. Kreia had told him that the ship was not to be fixed ‘until their business here was concluded.’ Which there was no telling when that would be, so the ship was fixed just in case they needed to make a hasty escape. Just because some grouchy Jedi told him to keep it broken for her, doesn’t mean he was going to listen. Last thing they needed was to get out of here quick and couldn’t because he had gutted the ignition coil for no reason.

This isn’t so bad, thought Atton, A little ‘me’ time is just what I needed. Of course, I know better than to think that old witch was trying to do me any favors. She just didn’t want me to spend anymore time with the Exile. His hands stilled as his thoughts trailed to the Exile and Kreia. Kreia. Just the thought of her made him cold all over. If he ever displeased her, she would make good on her threats. The thought of hurting Lyneidra terrified him. Even more so the thought that she could make him might enjoy it. It would be all too easy…

Memories came unbidden, a woman laid beneath him, broken and bloody. He was strangling her, punishing her for making him feel… He didn’t want to feel… he just wanted to be left alone… he choked the life out of her, willing the love in her eyes to fade… He didn’t deserve it… she couldn’t save him… why did she make him feel? In his mind’s eye, the Jedi long since dead, had Lyneidra’s face.

Atton squeezed his eyes shut, attempting to block the images from playing in his mind and to quell the moisture from his eyes that threatened to fall. I could never hurt her. I have to protect her. Even from me. He took a shuddering breath and rose to drop his wire trimmers into the toolbox. He almost wished he had never told Lyneidra about his past, or at least wished that he hadn’t tried to remove himself from under Kreia’s thumb. As always, he made things ten times worse by trying to weasel out of something, after Nar Shaddaa you would think he would’ve learned. Old habits die hard I guess. Atton let out a slow breath, calming his mind and body the way Lyneidra had taught him. There is no emotion… there is peace… there is no ignorance… only knowledge… there is no passion… there is serenity… Hah, the Jedi equivalent to counting to ten, but at least I do feel better.

“Atton?”

Jolted out of his revere, Atton banged his head on the pilot’s seat in surprise. Change the face of the +2/-2 card and the total is…

“Lyn?” Atton rose from behind the chair to find Lyneidra staring at him at the cockpit’s doorway, “What are you doing here? I thought you were with the others.” He took a moment to stare at her, amazed by how beautiful she was each time he saw her. Her scarlet tresses were twisted into a loose bun at the nape of her neck, a few soft tendrils escaping to whisper along the sides of her face. Her soft ivory skin was unblemished save for a single scar that broke the perfect arch of her brow over her left eye. That scar was etched in Atton’s memory, he has spent hours thinking about her face and all it’s perfect imperfections. He knew from their meeting on Peragus, when she saved him from his holding cell wearing nothing but a kolto tank under garments, that her alabaster skin had a myriad of scars. Some from the Mandalorian Wars, some from her supposedly self-imposed Exile, but each one made Atton treasure her more.

A smile broke out across Lyn’s heart-shaped face and Atton felt his heart lurch for a moment. Change the face of the +3/-3 card and the total is 17… “And I thought you were supposed to be decent.” Lyn looked pointedly at Atton’s naked torso, “What, are your new robes too itchy?”

A lopsided grin to match her smile, “What? Don’t you like the view?” Atton spread his arms to give her a better view, turning to make sure she got the whole show, “You never answered my question.”

“I wanted to check on the Hawk, I thought it was broken.” She rose one sardonic eyebrow at Atton, “Nice try, by the way, but smelling like a drowned wookiee is hardly the way to impress a girl.”

Atton took a step towards Lyn, raising an eyebrow of his own. These kinds of games were much easier than counting Pazaak in his head. It will be so much more fun too without Kreia around. Caught up in the moment, he could almost forget how the sight of Lyn made his heart ache. He stopped in front of her and propped an arm above her head on the doorsill, effectively trapping her.

"It was broken, I fixed it. Aren’t I handy? I would have thought Kreia and Mical would’ve kept you busy. So why are you really here?"

"I had to get away from the rest of them, I think HK made some new friends," she sighed and looked away from him, "And I wanted to know why you’ve been avoiding me since Nar Shaddaa."

There was a slight hurt to her voice, that set Atton on edge. The proton core is clicking again….one…two….three..

"And would you STOP that?"

Taken aback, Atton stepped away from Lyneidra, “Hey, I thought you promised not listen in on my thoughts anymore.”

"I wasn’t, but every since Nar Shaddaa and you opened yourself to me so I could rekindle your Force Sensitivity our bond seems to have gotten stronger. Whenever you try especially hard to keep something out I can feel it. You’ve been doing it a lot lately too. I want to know what is wrong. You’re afraid of something, I can feel it."

"I-" Atton began, a cold chill passed over him, "I’m afraid."

"Afraid, afraid of what?"

Of Kreia. Of you. Of myself. Of what she’ll make me do… That I will enjoy it… “Of falling.” Atton turned from Lyneidra, he didn’t want her to see him like this.

A softness entered her voice that he had never heard before, “Falling? Falling to the Darkside?”

Atton closed his eyes, couldn’t she see that this hurt him? “Yeah, I mean… I told you about me… before… it wouldn’t be hard to fall back into that. Especially now, I feel everything so sharply now. It was like… before Nar Shaddaa everything had this filter over it. Now everything is clear to me… I just have a much harder time getting my mind under control.”

"That’s because you’re trying to get your mind under control," Atton felt her step closer to him, "You find your center, you need to get your heart under control."

"That’s what I’ve been trying to do! It’s not working! Nothing is working!" He was shaking, Atton opened his eyes to stare at the galaxy map across from him. Best hyperspace route to Korriban from here is…

Lyneidra finished closing the distance between them, she was so close he could feel the heat of the jungle moon radiate off of her. She placed a slender hand on his bare shoulder, “It is because of the walls you put up, Atton. A jedi cannot rely on their emotions to hide things the way you do. The strong emotions that protect you from the Jedi before only cause you to be off balance as one. It’s like trying to play two games of dejarik one board, you cannot share the same amount of game pieces between the two games and still be whole. By sacrificing one piece of yourself for one side, you lose it completely. Do you see?”

Atton closed his eyes, trying not to think of how close she was to him, “But I’ve been doing this for so long… I… I do not think I can learn to let it go.”

"I can help you, Atton, I swear. I will not let you fall."

Atton placed his hand on top of her’s, “How?” keeping her hand in his, Atton slowly turned to face her. He kept his face a stony mask, “How can you help me?”

Lyneidra turned her emerald eyes up to his, “You have to let me in,” she dragged her hand across his chest and laid it flat over his chest, “Here. But not like how you did on Nar Shaddaa, you kept your defenses up, even then. You have to let me in completely.”

She stared into his eyes, it seemed as though she was trying to push something at him through her eyes but he couldn’t fathom it. Her eyes were beautiful, he found no deceit or a desire to use him within their sparkling depths. His mind no where else, but on her eyes he gave his answer:

"Gladly."

Lyneidra rewarded him with the briefest of smiles, and before he could say anything else, she passed that finite distance between them and kissed him. He broke away in surprise, “Lyn- I..”

"Quiet, flyboy, let me do my thing," Lyneidra slid her arms around his waist and pressed her lips to him once again.

Atton closed his eyes and leaned against the computer console he was up against. Her lips were soft, much softer than he had imagined them to be. She tasted like cinnamon and Atton was amazed at how comfortable she fit within his arms. He pulled her against the length of him and bought a hand up to tangle within her long hair. He swam in her scent, and luxuriated in her heat. Atton lost himself in his desire for Lyneidra Chal.

There is no passion, there is serenity… Atton started at the voice and almost broke contact with Lyneidra. It had sounded like her, it felt like her. He could feel her in his head, like before on Nar Shaddaa. Lyneidra’s presence filled his senses in a way that no kiss ever could. It felt warm, it felt safe. Atton basked in the feeling savored it like it was his last meal. It very well could be, if Kreia found out…

Lyneidra’s presence seized on his thought, and tried to follow it to his core. Atton realized what she was trying to do, he just had to let her in. She would never get inside if he didn’t let her, they could stay like this for hours and she would never get any closer unless he brought her in. So he did. Atton pulled Lyneidra into his mind, past all the pazaak games, past all the hyperspace routes, and past the all the lustful fantasies he had allowed himself to have of her. They had been his protection from the invasive advances of Kreia’s mind, now they shamed him as they stood a barrier between him and Lyneidra.

Atton pulled her past all of his walls and brought her to the very center of his being. He placed her in the middle of all his inner most thoughts. Let her feel his fear of falling to the dark side. Let her wallow in the agony of his self-hatred. Let her stand in the middle of his past, let her see all the crimes, all the atrocities he had committed. Lives taken, Jedi slain, and underneath it all, the thrill he felt when he did it. His fear, his fear he would do those things again. Do those things to her.

Finally, he let her feel his love for her. The overwhelming desire he had to protect her and the way her presence made him feel. The way she had made him feel since he first met her. He was desperate to let her know that not everything was a joke. It hurt so much to be apart from her… Atton felt her go still at this, both in his mind and in his arms. He broke apart from her kiss and looked down at Lyneidra. There were tears in her eyes, she was crying. For him?

"Lyn… I…"

"Hush, Atton. It’s my turn now."

The presence that was Lyneidra in his mind spread open. Through their connection he felt emotions that were not his own flow across his consciousness. He recognized them instantly as hers. There was understanding and forgiveness, for his past. She had said the words, but now he could tell that she truly meant them. They were not just idle things she whispered to manipulate him. She forgave him for each of his wrong doings, and filled the cracks between with the hope that he might forgive himself as well. There was a trust and faith within her, faith that he would never allow himself to fall so fall again and trust that he would never hurt her, never let anyone bring her harm. Her feelings swept over him like a warm desert wind, they warmed him in places he had not know he had grown cold. In the center of the wind, there was her love. Love for him, and it was that love that finally filled the holes in his broken spirit. She withdrew her mind from his, there were no walls or barriers for her to pass through this time. In her wake she left him calm, at peace.

“Lyneidra, what… how… did you do that?” Atton asked her breathlessly.

“Through our bond,” She smiled up at him, her lips wet from their embrace.

“Our bond? I’ve never been able to feel you like that before,” Atton raised a hand to her face, still mesmerized by the fact that this beautiful woman loved him.

“That’s because you were too busy counting pazaak, flyboy.”

A mischievous grin broke out across his face, “Well, I can think of some better things to do right now. Lyneidra, how can I thank you?”

“Say what you feel, Atton. I want to hear it,” she purred at him.

“I love you, Lyneidra Chal.”

“And I love you, Atton Rand,” she pulled him close and kissed him, “Oh, and Atton, one more thing?”

“What’s that, beautiful?”

“Kiss me again.”

They made love on the cold steely floor of the Ebon Hawk while Dxun’s heavy jungle heat pressed down around them. It was like nothing Atton had experienced before, there wasn’t any desperation or lust in their actions. It was a coming home, it brought him peace and comfort like no other thing had done before. There was no passion, there was serenity. They fell asleep in each other’s arms, a naked tangle of limbs. For once in his life, Atton felt at peace.

"And I get the fool." Darth Sion turned from Atton, slowly stalking out of the room.

"Funny, that’s just what I was thinking…" Atton pulled against his restraints, struggling to calm himself. Sion had him strapped into an interrogation chair, Atton knew all too well how these things worked. He was not too eager to be on the receiving end of their ‘tender’ care. He glared at Sion, "Hey, Sleeps-With-Vibroblades, I’m not done with you yet!"

Sion turned, his wrecked visage cracking into a smile, “Nor I you. I will remake you, so when I look upon you it shall be like a mirror,” Sion gestured towards the chair’s controls and Atton watched as the switches pressed themselves in, “Then, I shall let you die.”

Electricity coursed through Atton’s limbs the smell of ozone and burnt hair. The pain was excruciating and it was all he could do to keep from crying out. As suddenly as it began, the pain stopped. It seemed an eternity before Atton could lift his head to stare defiantly at Sion, “Take your time.”

Sion reached for the lightsaber at his side, it hummed to life and he brought the glowing scarlet blade close to Atton’s face, “Oh, I will, you don’t have to worry about that.”

Loved from the moment I first saw you, thought you were a dream…tried to play it off as a joke… wasn’t funny… It hurts… when I laugh… It hurts…

Atton sat up gasping for air, his skin felt like it was too tight for his body and his right arm was awash in a burning pain. Atton blinked to clear his eyes and saw he was still laying on the floor of the Hawk’s cockpit. Lyneidra was still sleeping soundly beside him. Atton looked down at his hands, confused. That dream… Was it a dream? Atton clenched the fist of his right hand, the action caused pins and needles to shoot up his arm. It was too real to be a dream… Was it a vision? Of the future? Atton looked down at Lyneidra’s sleeping form, her red hair laid across her face in a tangle. Gently, so as not to wake her, Atton straightened her mussed hair. No… There was something off…

Atton closed his eyes and tried to remember the emotions that had been streaming through the Vision Atton’s consciousness. There had been regret. Atton knew that now he had no regrets. It had been a vision of the future, but it was one of possible futures, and in his heart Atton knew that it was one that would not come to pass. Not now. Atton leaned down and kissed Lyneidra’s forehead.

Not now, not ever. I have no regrets. I have got a good feeling about this…