Although I See A Darkness

It'd been a week. Seven long days that would no doubt stretch on for a lot longer. A week since her mother had had to leave. To go back into space and do whatever it was that she did up there.

A week of classes and routine, of homework and studying. Sparring and boredom, exercise and rest. She applied herself when the fancy struck, but most days had become just like the ones before: dull, and spent alone with her thoughts. She wasn't sullen, but it was easy to see by all that her mind was very much not in the here and now. Even Draiya had left her alone for the time being. No; her thoughts were not here, on Ossus. They weren't with the teachers who were constantly talking, and they weren't with anyone else who tried to speak to her. She would give a nod, and be done with it all. That was that. She simply accepted what was said, and spoke nothing else of it. She ate her meals in silence, often taking them outside and sitting alone.

So much occupied her thoughts that she almost felt as though she was unable to take it. Unable to understand anything anymore.


Maybe that was why, a week after her mother had gone, Teagan found herself at the door of Master Vymes' tent. He wasn't there, but she knew that he would be returning shortly enough. The lunch hours were almost over, and she had a healthy enough notion that he'd be coming back here after his meal. A resolute expression settled across her young features as she reached out, pulling the flap open just enough to allow her to slip through.

Inside, the young Lupine marveled at the almost unnatural quiet that seemed to permeate the tent, and wasting no time, she moved to one of the chairs that rested beside the small table. She sat, drawing her feet up and wrapping her arms around her legs so that her chin rested on her knees. Nothing was ever fair, lately. But Dama had asked her to be strong, and to be patient. It was a tall order, all things considered, but the girl had promised that she would. There were still things that she had questions about, and answers that she wished to have. And right now, there was only one person on this entire planet who could give them to her.

Her eyes closed, and Teagan let out a long breath as she waited.

It wouldn't be long now.

She didn't have to wait long, as Zem Vymes was a creature of habit. Toting his lunch pail that he'd stocked at the mess hall, the Jedi Master entered the tent as the flaps parted in front of him. If he was surprised to see Teagan sitting in the chair opposite his, he didn't show it. Instead, he casually walked to the table, set his lunch pail to the side, and sat on the corner of the table adjacent to the youngster, foregoing his own chair. That level of casual interaction wasn't given to many people here. Teagan was probably the only one that saw that side of the old Jedi.

"Need to talk, kiddo?"

She'd heard him come in, heard the lunch pail being set on the table, and finally opened her eyes when he spoke. Looking up, Teagan blinked before giving a nod as if suddenly remembering it was polite to offer some sort of answer to questions asked. She inhaled a long breath, letting it out slowly while unfurling one leg, letting it dangle.

First things first, of course. So much had been left unsaid in that last day; those last few hours. She'd been so distraught at having to watch her mother leave that she'd not even thought to ask the most obvious of questions.

"When is my mom coming back?"

"Soon."

It was the only answer he had. The only thing he knew in his bones and hoped for all at once. And even as he said it, he knew it wasn't enough. Not enough by half. She deserved more of an answer, and so did he.

"Your mama's got some things to sort out. A whole lot of things. I guarantee you kiddo, if she thought she had that done you'd be the first one to know it. She misses you a whole lot."

Teagan listened with an expression that wasn't quite sullen, but it wasn't quite expectant and jovial, either. It just was. Her eyes remained locked on Master Vymes' own, unsure if she should accept that answer. 'Soon' could be so many things in the confusing and roundabout way that adults spoke, and briefly she contemplated digging deeper for an answer that she felt satisfactory. But, in her heart she knew that what he said was the truth of it all, and that he seemed to want her mom to come back just as much as she did. She was willing to bet that if Markos was old enough to understand, he'd be of the same mind as well.

Eventually, another nod as Teagan accepted his answer. There was more, as there always was. There was curiosity and the desire to know. Things that had been said to her before. Things that seemed like such a mystery. Things that she'd been told had happened, but not how, or why. The details were left out; they always were. Told she was too young, told that she wasn't ready to hear everything. Told that she'd have bad dreams. Bad dreams. As though they didn't plague her now. She was beyond the worry of nightmares, and beyond being too young.

"You said something before," she started finally. Her words were slow, but held weight even so. The weight of one who needed to know things. Still her eyes were on his.

"About coming back... you coming back."

Was it a long shot? Perhaps. She almost expected to be told that still, she was too young to hear such things. But, she was resolute. She was - in her estimation - old enough. In fact, she firmly believed that she was owed everything that was said to be saved for later. She deserved it. The truth was her due, and she was determined to not be turned away this time.

A long time passed before Zem spoke. He knew by the look in her eyes that she needed more. She wasn't a little girl anymore. There was a lot of growing up she'd been forced to do a little too early. Lessons she'd had to learn straight no chaser. That kind of life could make you hard if you let the weight of it bring you down. Before Zem spoke, he had to be resolute in what he would say. He wasn't going to allow mistakes he'd seen to come to pass again.

At last, his slightly parched lips parted.

"Yes, I did."

She was old enough to know. If she didn't, and if she lived a 'safer', more blinkered youth, she might very well face all of his regrets.

"During the dark times, I could count on two things and two things only. Your dama, and the will of the force."

The old Jedi seemed to look past the young Lupine. Eyes that had seen a lot of years began to look inwards into the depths of memory.

"There wasn't enough hope to hang on anything beyond that."

Her brow seemed to knit in memory, though it wasn't so much the act of remembering as it was the reliving of the sights, the sounds, and the scents of a small outlying planet that barely held on to the notion of civilization.

"I remember a lot... "

She could still see the gallows in her mind's eye, and finally she looked away, deep in thought.

"... like back on Layla; I asked you why you left, and you said you needed time alone. I remember what my mom wrote about you on that little piece of paper, and I remember she cried that night after we found you. She'll probably say she didn't, but I heard her. Clear as I can hear you right now in this tent."

A pause, and Teagan went on.

"But even before all of that, she told me a lot of things about you," she blinked, her gaze lingering on the table's rough-hewn surface. "... about how you met, about how she didn't like you at first, and how you were her teacher."

Her eyes once more went up to meet Master Vymes'.

"But she didn't tell me everything."

"To tell you the truth..."

Zem's eyes gravitated to the floor as he tried to return to a place he didn't like to tread.

"...sometimes I can't remember the sequence. I remember things that happened. Faces. People. A planet we'd land on, and leave the same day. It was so much..."

The crows feet at his eyes tightened, as did his jaw.

"...pain. Suffering. Everywhere we went was just running to or away from someone else's tragedy. I felt so useless by myself. So useless."

She watched him, his face suddenly very different from the one she'd grown accustomed to seeing during her time here on Ossus. Now he seemed so much older; not haggard, but to her there seemed to suddenly be more lines etched onto his features than there'd been only minutes before. For a brief moment she began to reconsider her request, a strange sense of worry over the Jedi Master making her think twice.

No. She had to know. She couldn't stop him now.

"Tell me what happened," her voice came out in a whisper as she leaned forward ever so slightly, her tone almost desperate.

"Please, I have to know... "

"It started with a man I knew named Tam Jeneel."

He could still see his face. That was clear as if he was standing before the both of them. Those bright optimistic eyes. That reassuring smile.

"Another Jedi, from the old days. When me and your dama were on the run and at the end of our rope, our paths crossed. Even something as little as seeing another familiar friendly face, it made you feel like you could carry on."

It was a name that she couldn't recall her mom mentioning, and Teagan leaned back enough so that her leg shifted, moving to curl up beneath her.

"She never told me about him."

Which was strange, since there had been so many stories, and yet there were still things that hadn't been told to her. Was this another instance of her being too young?

"What happened to him?"

And once again in his mind's eye, he returned to that terrible day on Rumigaar. He saw the look on Tam's blood-smeared face. The eyes had changed. Gone wrong.

"We were found out, just as we were gathering other Jedi survivors. I don't know how, but in those days the eyes of Palpatine - of Darth Sidious - saw so far. He sent his right hand to deal with us. Darth Vader."

Zem's eyes closed.

"Before we could retreat to our ship, he cut down four Jedi. We couldn't stop him. Tam tried, he..."

Shaking his head, the old Jedi Master's eyes opened.

"The pain of loss and despair was too much. He fell to the dark side. He used revenge to fill the hole inside him with blood, but that hole runs too deep to fill. We got away, but Tam...there wasn't gonna be a way back."

She blinked at that, suddenly confused. Shaking her head, the girl made a perplexed face as recent memories of words spoken by both Master Vymes and her mom came spilling out.

"But... you and Dama said that there is a way back."

Zem nodded.

"There is. But the way back ain't easy. Ain't easy to see, ain't easy to walk. It's much easier to take the power the Dark Side gives you, and let it lie to you. Convince you that you're bigger than it is, all the while it makes a slave out of you. Tam Jeneel knew exactly what happened to him. He knew in that moment he wasn't coming back. So he made his choice and killed himself."

Reliving the moment stained Zem's expression with nascent grief, and he hung his head.

"That was his last act as a Jedi. And it's stayed with me my whole life."

And in that moment she realized why she'd never been told stories of Tam Jeneel. Her lips parted slightly at the revelation, and her breath caught in her throat. Her mind tried to work through this new information, and her mouth closed as she briefly sent a glance to the side.

"That's terrible," was all she could think of to say.

She looked down at her hands, her voice full of quiet understanding as she went on.

"No wonder she never told me."

"We saw so much darkness. Fought against what we could. Ran from the rest. We were both lucky we didn't share Tam's fate. I think in some way that his death was a warning of things to come."

Age-gnarled hands laced together in Zem's lap, and he stared down at them.

"When it came for me, we'd come to a forlorn planet called Boz Pity. They call it a graveyard world. I fought there once in the Clone Wars, but we returned there, oh, twenty-nine years ago. And that's where the levee broke."

Twenty-nine years.

To her, that was a number that she almost didn't want to try and fathom. Twenty-nine. It made her think though, about just how long her mom had been alive. She'd heard a few stories about the Clone Wars, but not many. Her eyes went from her hands to the lightsaber clipped to his belt, and Teagan remembered clearly the day that she'd snuck into her and Dama's room on the Black Cat, stealing away the box that it'd been kept in.

"Twenty-nine years ago is a long time," she said eventually.

When Zem's eyes looked up again at Tak, they held a sadness to them.

"When you're older, you'll see just how funny time works. It's yesterday to me, kiddo."

Boz Pity

Twenty-nine years ago

"We can't stay here."

Zem-El's eyes took in the sight grimly as he banked the small Corellian shuttle around for another pass. The curious slapdash settlement on the blasted face of Boz Pity looked miserable. Ramshackle tents hewn together from wrecked war machinery housed a teeming throng of survivors going about the hand-to-mouth business of surviving. It was a nowhere destination. A place between one warzone and another, where people ended up when their luck ran out. Everyone simply waiting for that luck to change.

"We're here for the fuel. Maybe food. That's it. Got it?"

Eyes shut tightly, s'Il gripped the armrests of her seat. One hand swept up just to make sure her crashwebbing was still in place (of course it was) before returning quickly to grip the thinly padded armrest once more.

"I'm well aware."

A concise answer for an equally concise set of stipulations.

Her good eye peaked open, tracking upward to look at the pitiful sight before them, and just as quickly she shut it again. She made a disgusted face, suddenly wishing that they were back in space. Whatever errand it was that Dan had sent them on, the young Lupine was suddenly not so sure she wanted to see it through to the end. Gods but she could already smell the filth that waited for them.

She grimaced, choosing to voice her displeasure.

"Why couldn't he send us to somewhere else?"

She felt the landing struts extend, that distinct shudder gently rocking the shuttle.

"Even Kamino is better than here."

"Kamino has plenty of fuel, but also plenty of stormtroopers. Here we get a fraction of the fuel, and if we're lucky, won't get shot for it."

Still, Lok's protests had a very real thread of truth. Every planet they'd touched down on for the past three months seemed to carry an even more grim set of circumstances. Terrified people either under an oppressive bootheel, or refugees without a way out. The rag-tag opposition to the Empire was barely able to keep their weapons loaded and their fuel tanks from bleeding dry. They lost half of everything they scrounged just trying to run away and regroup for breathing room.

Zem-El felt tired. How long had it been since he'd had real sleep? Sleep without an eye open, ready for the sound of shelling or some fresh horror? Sleep that didn't have to worry that it would be forever?

On the second pass, he found an opening between what appeared to be the shattered superstructure of an old Techno Union Hardcell warship. It had come down years ago, breaking into two main pieces that had turned into some sort of ramshackle. Someone's tattered laundry hung over a wrenched section of durasteel. It was absurd and he couldn't take his eyes off it, even as he powered the ship down. For a few seconds, he sat there, berating himself. Eventually, the Jedi let his increasing self doubts alone, and stood up, slapping the gangplank controls. As the hydraulics hissed, he looked behind him to the cargo section of the ship, at the three cannibalized astromechs standing neglected in the corner.

"Come on."

Grabbing hold of one of the inoperable droids, Zem hefted it, clearing a bit of ground before he felt comfortable pushing the lifeless thing on its wheels. When it met the sloping gangplank, the droid accelerated, rolling down the rest of the way before tumbling to the ground.

"We're here to barter! Astromech parts for fuel cells!"

A shabby mob of a dozen dirty faces approached the ship, and suddenly a clamor broke out.

Aw hells.

She scowled, standing at the top of the gangplank and looking down to the sudden crush of dirty, grimy bodies that had seemed to appear as if from nowhere.

"Coulda gone for a less loud approach," she grumped, starting down the ramp at a clipped pace. Her rifle was slung over one shoulder, the dusty jacket she wore over faded fatigues giving her a bit of a drifter look... which, to be honest, wasn't that far off the mark. In fact, it was right on the mark, and the Lupine often enough grudgingly voiced her thoughts on the matter. Perhaps it was a wish to be somewhere again that felt of home. Somewhere that wasn't just a stopover or a rendezvous for some other hit and run mission.

Times like now, striding down the length of the boarding ramp, she was reminded rather fervently of that silent wish for somewhere to simply stay.

Her scowl seemed to deepen as she raised her voice.

"Oi now! We want a trade, not a buncha yelling!"

A whole slew of offers came in at once. A crate of rockets. A hyperdrive motivator. Three hyperdrive motivators that just need 'a little work'. But while quite a few folks were interested in bartering goods, twice as many wanted simply one thing in return for whatever they owned.

They wanted out. Escape.

Zem-El raised his hands pleadingly.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry. We don't have the room."

Which was true. If they were able to get the provisions they so badly needed, there would be barely enough room for him and Loklorien on the ship. It was a bitter thing, knowing how little you were able to help.

Please, we were attacked on Bilbringi and barely made it here alive! Please mister, take my children. Please, the Empire will kill us if they find us! Please, you're our only hope!

Vymes looked at Loklorien, but the look of sure confidence he normally projected was starting to falter.

Turning to look back at him, s'Il made a face that only he would be able to interpret; a face that told him to stand firm. A face that told him they had a job to do. There were times that she envied him his ability to connect with others so easily, but now was not one of those times.

She spoke up for him, her own voice level and firm.

"No room," she repeated with a projected sense of finality that hushed more than a few of those crying for help.

The Lupine looked over to the one who'd offered a crate of rockets.

"What type of rockets are we talking about."

It was far less a question than an order for him to speak up, and the man seemed to hesitate a moment before sidling forward and speaking up.

"Standard ground to air," he started, "... nothing fancy, but they're good; ain't a dud in the crate."

Her time with the Rebels had been a learning experience just as much as her time at the Temple, and s'Il's mouth formed a thin line as she thought. It seemed a good deal on its' face, but she held off regardless. Instead another sideways look was sent to Zem. They had two other droid units; maybe it wouldn't be a bad idea to trade one for ammunition no matter the form.

An imperceptible shake of his head was his reply to Lok. Not because they didn't need rockets. Certainly they did. Hell, he was surprised at how desperate some of the fighting got sometimes. They'd be throwing pots and pans at the Imperials if things got more meager. As badly as the rockets might help, what they needed even more was fuel. Keeping the few ships they had being able to move on their own power was the most important thing they could do. Even if you couldn't fight today, you could run away.

"Just fuel cells. Wish I could."

The rocket barterer chewed on his lower lip in frustration, and his eyes went to the droids. He didn't turn back.

"I got a few."

He almost whispered the words, and didn't look up at the two Jedi. Nobody wanted to hock fuel cells. Running away in this place was also a high commodity. Of course, a part of that also required the wherewithal to navigate when you ran, so equally important were astromech components. The barterer looked sidelong at another dirty-faced man, who returned the glance with an angry face.

"Like hell! We need those!"

"We ain't goin nowhere but circles if we can't plot a course, Zoll! What good's all this if we blast off and plot a course into a comet!"

"What good's a course if we burn out and drift halfway there?!"

The crisis was existential and as desperate as anything the rebels were dealing with. Zem couldn't feel a shatterpoint in the argument. They were stumbling across a dilemma that existed well before they'd touched down. Quickly, he tried to think of a solution.

"The barge."

The arguing men stopped, and looked back to Zem. Zem, in turn, looked to Lok.

"That old trash scow we recovered at Nar Shaddaa. It uses liquid fuel stock. We've got enough of that. It could hold a few hundred head?"

Lok knew the ship they were talking about. It was slow and bulky, and was little else than a great durasteel box with a large engine and a droid brain. Probably couldn't even enter an atmosphere, but with a shuttle doing the back and forth...

Of course, it could also be used to fill full of anything that would explode, and pointed to the nearest imperial cruiser.

She turned a concerned look to him, an expression that was masked by her normally scowling demeanor. The barge had been a bit of a windfall in and of itself, and the Lupine crossed her arms as she leaned sideways toward Zem.

"Are we even able to use it for trade?"

There was a tone of caution lacing her voice, and her eye scoured Zem's own expression for any inkling of... something.

"Dan might not like you bartering off his golden shaak."

Another look was sent to the two men before returning to the other Jedi. She blinked, resisting the urge to reach up and scratch at an itch that'd flared to life alongside the outer edge of her scar.

"I think he had plans for that thing," she finished with a grunt.

Zem-El canted his head back as he leaned, again speaking out of earshot of the crowd.

"Not gonna give the ugly bucket away. Just thinking about...I dunno...borrowing it."

It would be a hard sell either way. Lok was right. Having a big lumbering battering ram might be a useful card they might not want to lay on the table for a rescue mission. Still, Vymes couldn't possibly think of another way to barter for the refugees' cooperation.

"If you've got any better ideas..."

It wasn't said out of a need to defend the notion. All ideas at this point were welcome, even the farfetched.

That was the problem more than anything else at this exact moment in time; a problem that harried her ability to think fast enough on her feet: she had no other better idea. Not even an inkling of something that held better promise. But still, it seemed reckless to gamble with something like the barge, especially when - from the looks of some of the gathered crowd - there would be those who'd not think twice about simply ganging up on whatever crew was aboard and taking it for their own once far enough away from the planet.

She let out a frustrated sigh, staring ahead.

"I can't think of anything," she finally ceded, and after a moment, finished with the thought that bothered her most.

"Means we're gonna have to stick around here longer than we'd planned, though."

That was a problem. Zem-El sighed, eyes going to his feet. And then, he had it.

"Well, they do have rockets, like you said."

An idea was forming in his head. It wasn't fair to the people here, but to be honest, so very little was fair anymore.

"We're sweetening the pot by bringing the barge, right? They throw in the rockets. We leave with the fuel, come back with the barge, get the people out and the rockets."

His expression creased as he tried to make the calculus of the plan balance in his mind.

"They'll have to wait for it, but they're getting more for their wait than a wing and a prayer, and cobbling together an escape."

At last, he looked back to Lok, to see if it all sounded right to her as well.

A second look was sent to the assembled mass, and s'Il gave a frown that conveyed her doubts.

"I don't think they'll just give us the cells and trust people they don't know to come back."

Her features only darkened as she tried to make sense of Zem's plan.

"I know I wouldn't."

It was noble, and his plan did have merit, but only insofar as these people were able to see the results with their own eyes. Blind faith would get them nowhere in this galaxy; and from the looks of things, here on Boz Pity most of all. She let her eye sweep from one end to the other, and she blew out a hissed breath from between her teeth.

"An'ata'rasu," came the exasperated sigh, "Look at them... "

She shook her head.

"They'll sooner mob us and take our shuttle now rather than wait on nothing but some hope that two strangers try to make them believe in.

"Even if it's true," she added.

"Then I'll stay."

They had no other cards to play. Lok was right. Mob desperation was a herd instinct. It could make otherwise rational people do inhuman things. All for a hope. Zem-El didn't need to look at Lok to feel the horrified expression on her face.

"Insurance. Guest. Hostage. Whatever. You get the fuel back, tell Dan the details. We get these people out of this hellhole."

I tried to make sense of things through the force. To find the shatterpoint. The shifting in energies to guide my hand. It wasn't there. Even as my instinct, it was clouded and unsure. Second-guessing and blind in the dark.

"Don't be stupid."

The words were out of her mouth even before she realized that she'd uttered them. The look on her face was a fitting accompaniment to what she spoke. Right now she was unwilling to consider his recommended 'plan'. Her voice remained low so that only he could hear her.

"That's only one trader; we should move about for a small bit, see if anyone else can make a better deal."

A final look was sent over her shoulder at the entryway of the shuttle before she stepped off the edge of the boarding ramp and onto the dusty ground.

Turning on her heel she sent her eye back to Zem, and lifted a beckoning hand.

"Come on. Lock it up and let's go."

"You think anyone here's gonna have a better deal? Look at these people, Lok."

Nevertheless, Zem turned back to the ship to do as she suggested. All for want of a better option than a handful of bad ones. Stepping toward the gangplank, he heard a beeping sound from the cockpit.

"Hang on a second."

He entered the ship again, heading to the forward compartment. Clearing the hatch to the cockpit, he could already see the blinking blue indicator on the control dash.

"No..."

The Jedi scrambled ahead, pushing the pilot's chair aside as he stood over the controls and the readouts that were coming in. The blue strobe was a proximity alert.

"Lok!"

Pulling her eye away from the still assembled group, s'Il turned to look up the boarding ramp. The tone to Zem's voice was one that she'd heard many times before, and the Lupine let out a huffed breath before trotting back up the ramp. She wasn't in a hurry, but all the same there was a quickness to her gait, and as she entered the cockpit she slowed to a stop.

"Eh?"

She looked from Zem to the control dash, then back to Zem, her brow knitted in sudden concern.

"You've got to be kidding me," she exhaled, her eye returning to the readout.

She reached forward, smacking a hand along the panel in the vain hope that it would silence the alarm; as though it'd been nothing but a fault. It didn't silence the truth of what they were looking at, and with a scowl the Lupine squared her shoulders back.

"Dammit."

The mass signature of the object triggering the proximity alert was small. Likely even too small to be a fighter, but it was broadcasting in a band range that Zem-El had seen from experience. Unmistakeably Imperial.

"Could be a probe."

That it wasn't a star destroyer was merely relief by a degree. If the probe saw something worth investigating, serious trouble would certainly follow soon after. Their mission to scrounge badly needed supplies was in jeopardy. They could scrounge to the last minute, and risk getting out in time, or they could cut bait.

It didn't take Vymes very long to determine which course of action to take. He jumped in the pilot's seat and began the warm-up procedure.

For the moment she was frozen in a sort of limbo; much like him she was thrust into the dilemma of whether to stay and hope for the best, or to go and sod it all to the nine hells of Corellia. It wasn't too hard of a decision, but still something nagged at her, and the Lupine pulled back a step as she took her eyes from the console.

"I should get the droid... "

Dan would be more than a little angry if they simply left behind one of the few bargaining chips they had.

A delay in answering, but eventually Zem-El replied with a nod.

"Alright, but be quick about it. I don't know how long we'll have."

Looking back at the knight he'd taken under his tutelage, he couldn't help but think about the narrow escape they'd made not too long ago at Ruumigar. He didn't want to chance waiting. In the meantime, he turned to his control board, looking for an angle to work with. They were too far away to jam comms, and getting close enough to do so meant that the probe just might get a good look at them.

No good choices to make.

She was quick to nod, knowing of his desire to be as off the radar so to speak, as possible. It was a sentiment that she shared.

Moving quickly, s'Il was out of the cockpit within a few seconds, and as she trotted back down the boarding ramp, she waved away the crowd that was still gathered.

"Away, all of you!"

A chorus of wails met her in answer, and the Lupine shook her head to each impassioned plea.

"No room... can't do that... not interested... not enough space... "

It was a litany of denial that she found herself giving out, and with a small amount of effort she elbowed her way to where the dead astromech still lay.

"Go on now, we've got no time for haggling. Deal wasn't met, so we're going somewhere else - "

"You can't do that!"

It was the man who'd offered the rockets. He and his partner were hard-pressed to move on, and each looked less than jovial at the notion of losing a trade.

"Can, and too bad."

A finger found its' way shoved into her chest as she knelt down to heft up the droid.

"I said no."

Stopped in her tracks, the Lupine blinked as she stared up wordlessly to the stranger.

And without warning stars exploded in her field of vision. She tumbled back, one hand going up to her temple as the other fumbled for her sabre. The crush of bodies that swarmed over her, holding her down, kept her from unclipping the hilt from her belt, and the Lupine cried out, calling for Zem in a half desperate plea for help.

He was moving before the first blow even landed, feeling everything suddenly shifting in the dynamic fluidity of violence. He didn't see faces, just intent and clarity of purpose. A crowbar coming around for a swing - and the arm swinging free from it's owner's body with crowbar still in its grasp. He didn't have time to settle the conflict amicably, or to find the higher path. No such luxury existed. Instead, there was only the wail of a hundred voices and the hum of his lightsaber.

This is what going mad must feel like.

And still, they pressed on. Desperate and with nothing better to do, they pushed towards the gangplank, and Zem-El denied them at every turn.

In the blur of the throng, one person stood out. A child, maybe five years old, in a ratty old jacket that was missing a sleeve. A hood was drawn over their head so he couldn't even tell if it was a girl or a boy. But he could see the face. Dirty like all the others. But unlike the others, the eyes were bright. Bright enough to draw his attention. There were hopes behind those eyes that hadn't yet been dashed. Dreams that hadn't been denied. Zem-El didn't know how many desperate people he'd been forced to kill or maim to buy their safety.

The one thing he did remember was the moment that child was trampled by the others.

* * *

"Lok...can you hear me?"

Zem-El patted a compress to the Lupine's forehead as she lay on a cot. He'd tended to as much as he could with the ship's medkit. Bacta could deal with the cuts and lacerations just fine, but he knew a concussion when he'd seen one.

She smiled. It was involuntary, and not exactly appropriate considering the circumstances, but the Lupine couldn't help the grin that cut her features. She didn't know where they were, or what level of danger they were in, yet she still smiled.

"I can hear you."

Her voice was almost raspy, hoarse and rough. A hand came up to wrap fingers around his wrist, and s'Il let out a long breath as she closed her eyes. Still the smile.

Slowly, as if stepping out from a fog, her brain parsed the events that'd led to now. She could remember being pushed down, of a hail of clenched fists raining down over her, and then nothing. Nothing until now.

"Where are we... ?"

"Trailing the Lagrange point of the outer planet in the system. I killed every system save life support, so if our luck is better than it's been lately, we're too far out and too quiet for anyone to see."

And yet they hadn't left. Zem-El told himself that maybe if they waited long enough, they could come back after the heat was off. That was a long shot, but nothing had changed about their desperate situation. They needed whatever they could scrounge. Maybe the Empire passed them by. Maybe they didn't. He thought about the last moments before they'd scrambled back to the ship. Back to that child. Even without the Empire firing a shot, people were still dying. Could it have been prevented?

It seemed lately that everything boiled down to whether or not they had 'luck'. Every desperate situation they had found themselves in, every moment that was spent hoping they'd live to see the next day... it was always hinging on luck. She'd become well acquainted with the notion, and it was one that she'd grown to despise. She was tired of relying on luck, tired of hanging her life and that of Zem's on luck. It was tiring and infuriating.

She released his hand, letting her arm fall back to drape over her midsection.

"I hate luck," came her eventual response.

"Tired of it."

Another moment passed, and the Lupine levered herself up, propping her upper body up on her elbows.

Eyes closing, she let her head fall back as a frustrated sigh escaped.

"Can't anything go right for once?"

"There's no such thing as luck."

Zem's voice was distant, and he didn't meet her eyes as he said them. What was there, then? The force. The cornerstone of everything he'd been raised to understand and rely on. The very nature of what made the universe work. And yet? In these times, it felt like even that failed them. The corruption of the dark side assailed every side of their fortress, to the point that you couldn't peer over the ramparts anymore without being thrown from over the top.

"We have to go back."

"No such thing as-" She angled her head forward once more, eyes opening to settle a broken gaze on him.

" - but you just said if our luck is better... "

She grimaced, her voice trailing off as his last words sounded for all the galaxy like the last nail being hammered into their coffin. It was a long silence that passed before she spoke again, and when she did, it was in a whisper.

"I don't think we should."

"No, we shouldn't."

And she was right. The prudent thing to do was to run. Again. Head back empty handed to a situation that grew more desperate each day. Because their luck might change. Because the will of the force guided them. It was all a grey fog in his mind. The more he tried to peer through it, the more he could only see the child. There one second, and the next...

"But we have to."

Or Zem had to.

"I'm tired of being pulled between running and making a stand. I don't know what my destiny is, but it's not this. Whatever this is, it's doing no one any good."

A few seconds of silence hung dead as the vacuum of space.

"I keep thinking about Tam."

This was not a road that she wanted to venture down, and it was one that she wished to keep him from traveling as well. The Lupine narrowed her gaze at him, her lips becoming a tight, thin line.

"Don't think about him," she started. Her voice was stern almost, though there was still an airy trace throughout. She moved to sit up more fully.

"It will do neither of us any good, and he'd not want you to linger on what happened."

More secure, s'Il reached both hands out, placing a palm on either side of his face. She held him steady, her grip firm yet gentle. Her eye peered into his own, and she stared as far down into his soul as he would allow. He couldn't let himself be so consumed by what was around them; he couldn't let himself be so affected. They both had a job to do, duties to perform. There were expectations of them, and while in her estimations they were too high at times, she knew at least when to put her foot down and go no further. The question was though - did he?

"Zem-El," her voice held no edge, only softness.

"Tam was a Jedi. He lived and died as a Jedi."

She could see the ache that her companion was feeling, and her hold slid down to his shoulders as she pulled him into an embrace. The depth of his compassion for all things gave her a small bit of worry, and she held him tight. Whatever she could say to him now was likely nothing that he'd not heard before, but still. Some things needed repeating, and the Lupine held her lips to his ear as her next words came out in a b are whisper.

"Honor his memory with strength."

"I know what Tam was, when he made his decision to stand his ground."

He understood her warning, but they were staring at different sides of the duality that was their late friend.

"Whatever happened after that is something else entirely, but he wasn't wrong. If I'm going to honor anything, it's that."

And with that, Zem-El rose to his feet, and headed to the cockpit. The sound of ship systems coming online in a series of whirrs, hums, and beeps could be heard as he punched through the checklist.

She watched him walk away, at a loss for words. Her eye never left his back as he moved into the cockpit, and the Lupine blinked in confusion. She opened her mouth as if to call after him, but no sound came out and she found herself looking down at her hands. Another few moments of quiet passed before s'Il carefully slid off of the cot, her legs nearly giving way as she righted herself.

Stopping in the doorway, she leaned against the frame for support, watching him as he worked silently to bring their small shuttle back into full operation.

Her brow knit as worry lines began to etch themselves across her face. The man before her was not the man that he had been just days before, and in the very pit of her stomach she felt a wariness begin to grow. She could see the Force winding around him in wisps of sadness and grief.

Her next words were spoken with a halting, almost helpless tone lacing throughout.

"Where are you... ?"

"In the moment."

It was a non-answer that in it's way was answer enough. He wasn't running. Not today. Whether that meant no consequences or dire consequences would be sorted soon enough.

"We're out of the lagrangian point, and we clear the mass shadow in three...two..."

The maneuver would carry the shuttle clear from the nearest planetary body, and once that was done, they'd have clear line of sight back to Boz Pity. Of course, any lingering Imperials would likewise have line of sight to an incoming contact. The display showing their position to the nearest moon suddenly blinked, indicating they were now unobstructed, and Zem's scopes returned their telemetry. Negative contacts. He released his breath, not aware he'd been holding it at all.

"We're clear."

So with their immediate fate still in their hands, the Jedi shuttle was now clear to make the return. Zem-El looked to Loklorien, and the worry on her face. There wasn't much he could find to say that would dispel it.

She stared at him for a long while, unsure of what to say in answer. She could think of nothing; no assurance, no word of caution, nothing. It pained her, and as the two stared at one another, the Lupine conceded. Her head bowed, breaking their locked gaze as she turned about. Her gait still unsteady, s'Il made the short distance back to the cot well enough, and lowering herself to sit, she let her body fall back once more. It was as if the life had left her, and her eyes closed as she pawed desperately for any sense of... well... anything resembling a peaceful mind. Instead was only doubt.

And even if she did know what to say, would it even be heard?

The Empire had been here, that was certain. The moment the shuttle's descent pierced the cloud cover, Zem could plainly see the trailing finger of slate grey smoke against the dull dusty tones of the plains before them.

"There." He said, needlessly. There was no need to point it out, and furthermore, Lok didn't have the heart to look. The scene of yet another crime.

Without another word, Zem quickly canvassed a position to land. The haphazard structures of the refugee camp had been scattered by explosions, making what was a cramped landing before a near impossible task. It forced Zem to take a less favorable landing position, further away. Moments later, the dull thump of landing struts jostled the craft, and the running noises of the shuttle diminished as the checkdown was run.

Rising from his seat, Zem returned to the back of the ship where Lok lay.

"You situated good enough to move?"

On her side facing the bulkhead, there was little else to do during their descent other than hope. But, hope for what? That they would succeed in their mission? That they would return to Dan and the rest of their small, underground group in one piece? That their efforts were not in vain? That... that they could walk away from this planet with sound minds? Loklorien s'Ilancy very much doubted that.

She didn't turn over, open her eyes, or even make a move to acknowledge that he was standing over her. Instead she let a silence hang between them that was as thick as durasteel plating.

"I do not think that I have a choice," she ground out finally.

And then she did move, rolling about to sit up, her boots swinging over the edge of the cot to land on the decking. A hand came up to itch at the upper edge of her scar, and s'Il gave a heavy sigh while rising to stand. For a moment she looked up at him, and in the next, her expression soured as she stepped forward, brusquely shoving her way past him.

She was clearly troubled by it all. Troubled that he'd taken the risk? That he'd openly acknowledged his desperation? The force failed him here as well, intentions and emotions both from her as well as himself were obfuscated. He didn't have time to argue; didn't have the words to make the argument in any case. They were committed now, and she was right - they didn't have a choice.

Hitting the gangplank, Zem walked out onto the plains. From a ground's eye view, the ruins of the settlement weren't far, just a few hundred meters.

He could already smell death on this place.

She stalked down the boarding ramp, coming to a halt after the first step on terra firma. Eye going to the horizon, she tested the air.

"It stinks of Weit-Fällt."

It was a scent that made her heft the blaster rifle on her shoulder just a little bit higher. Another look to him, this time a sideways glance. He had brought them back, but back to what? A world that held death and maybe a pitiful few survivors? He had once spoken words of leaving dead worlds behind, and letting them be to continue their lonely orbits. He had spoken of Schwartzweld then, and when she spoke next, her words were a slight echo of what he himself had said almost two years previous.

"There is nothing you can do for the dead except let them be."

Was it a final plea to leave? In a way. He would do what he wished, she knew that very well.

"There might be useable salvage still. We have to look."

It wasn't a justification, it was all they had. Lok was right, there wasn't anything to do for the dead. Coming back for the reverie did nothing to bring anyone back or to make things right. All they had now was graverobbing.

And yet he was still unable to escape the haunting of his previous last moments on Boz Pity. Maybe she'd caught a glimpse of the despair he no longer knew how to hide.

They walked on, heading through the floatsam. Fires burned in a few skeletal remains of bombed out shanties. Zem-El kept his eyes on the swivel, looking for signs of intact cargo or unmolested goods. The violence here was sloppy. A group of burned bodies here, a half dozen gunned down in the back as they no-doubt tried to run away. Zem-El pulled a still-smoking corpse off a crate, opening the lid to gaze at the contents within.

It stinks of Weit-Fällt

"Tibanna."

You couldn't turn your head and not see death. You couldn't not see destruction. Fire, turmoil, devastation, no sign of any mercies given. It was nothing but a stark image of desolation, pain, terror, and a grim ending for so many.

Zem's words were acknowledged by only the acrid tendrils of smoke winding around them, the eerie silence punctuated by crackling flames and rubble shifting. It was a tomb, this place.

One hand dropped down to brush fingers against the hilt of her sabre as it rested in the leather holster on her hip. Tragedy was everywhere, and lent a burning, stinging taste to the very air they breathed.

"How much?"

"Four..."

He hefted each of the bright orange pods remaining in the crate. One felt too light, and he tossed it away.

"No, three tanks."

It was paltry, but it was something. At best they were dining on scraps. Anything they could carry home helped balance the notion of dining on ashes in this place. With a little effort, he pulled the crate free, digging through another crate that was mostly used ration packs. Nothing. The Jedi fished an unopened sachet from one of the ration kits that contained a napkin, opening the package to unfold the paper square. He pressed it into Lok's hand, motioning to her nose. As awful as the smell of death was to him, he knew the Lupine's sensitivity.

"Our previous LZ should be up this way."

A rolling column of smoke marked the way. The unmistakeable smell of burned flesh.

s'Il looked down at the napkin that he'd pressed into her hand, and as they started off once more, she wordlessly lifted it to her nose and mouth, holding it up in some vain attempt to filter out the harshest notes of each stench that greeted them. It did little good, but his small act sparked a small sense of hope that despite all around them, he was returning to his normal state of awareness.

They picked their way through the debris, moving ever onward.

Was he hoping to salvage whatever had been offered in trade before their escape? However slim the chance was, she supposed that she couldn't blame him for at least trying.

A groan, a shift of crumbled durracrete. It made her stop abruptly, and the Lupine swept her gaze across the smattering of still bodies that lay all around. None moved.. except...

She caught the subtle tremor, and bringing the napkin down she side-stepped over a husk of scorched metal. A man lay beneath, pinned, and s'Il hitched up her rifle so that she could kneel at his side, her hand going out to cup the side of his face and bring his listless eyes to her. He stared at her as if she was a ghost. He coughed, blood staining his lips with another fresh layer of red, and he managed to croak out only two words.

"Kill... me..."

Zem was there in a moment, standing behind Lok as she tended to the gravely wounded man. Exactly how wounded, he couldn't say. He wasn't a field medic and not a specialized healer. His life force flickered weakly in the force, so it had to be bad enough.

"We have to get this decking clear."

It was a hefty slab of durasteel, easily over 150 kilos. From the way it pinned him, Zem didn't know if it had simply crushed him or bit into legs or his torso or worse. Extending both hands, he controlled the metal plate with the force, gingerly counteracting it's mass to lift carefully rather than brusquely peel it away.

She braced the man as Zem slowly lifted the plate, and her eye tracked down as more became visible. What she saw made her gasp, and she snapped her head up to look at her companion.

"Stop," she hissed.

"Don't lift it... "

The Lupine shifted her weight as she remained crouched, and keeping one hand at the man's face, her other went to the base of his neck.

"Put it back down... slowly."

Her eyes screwed shut as she bowed her head. The sight beneath the rubble - or rather what she hadn't seen, made her stomach lurch.

"His legs are gone."

What she didn't speak of were the bent and gnarled reinforcement bars that perforated his gut and chest. Instead, the Lupine slowly drew a hand away, letting it fall to where her blaster hung on her hip, nestled beside her sabre. Fingers unclipped the holster cover, and she wordlessly gripped the handle. It slid from its' holster, the barrel scraping against leather.

"What are you doing?!"

Zem saw her blaster clear leather, and he put a hand over her wrist in disbelief.

"You can't seriously be thinking that. We can save this man."

Perhaps an optimistic appraisal, but there'd already been too much blood. Maybe another drop to the ocean, but this had to be a drop too much.

She looked at his hand, holding her wrist at bay. Her eye then went up to meet his own, and the two stared at one another for what seemed like so very long. She opened her mouth to speak, but the man's weak pleading sounded once more.

"Kill me... please... "

Features twisting, s'Il kept her gaze on Zem, her head slowly shaking in sorrow before she finally answered him. And even then, her voice was a pained whisper.

"I have to."

"We can staunch the bleeding."

Zem frantically unclipped his lightsaber, holding it up for reference.

"Cauterize, keep him from bleeding out. That's a feather's chance in a cyclone I know, but we've got it!"

He'd seen what she'd seen. He'd already lost so much blood. Even if what he said was true, he probably wasn't making it off Boz Pity.

* * *

She listened with rapt fascination, Master Vymes' words painting a very convincingly hopeless picture in her mind's eye. Without realizing, the young Lupine had leaned forward, completely taken with what he spoke of. She blinked, bit her lower lip, then interrupted.

"But if he was dying," it didn't need to be fully asked, the girl's question.

Her small features fell into a frown.

"I don't understand."

Zem looked from where his hands rested in his lap to the young Lupine. A twinge of sadness in his features, he shook his head.

"Maybe it was all for nothing. Maybe it's easier to cut a loss. End a man's suffering. Maybe I was being selfish. I'd seen so much dead and dying going on. So much. I was tired."

The old Jedi sighed.

"Tired and sick in the heart."

Sick in the heart.

She thought on that, her own eyes moving away to look at the table's well-worn surface. Finally, she looked back up to him, her voice still quiet.

"Did you let her help you?"

"No. I didn't know how to ask. After all, she was the learner, and I was her teacher. I was there to make sure she stayed on the straight and narrow, and to keep her from having to face that same feeling."

Zem shook his head.

"I thought what I did was right, but I failed. I failed her."

Even despite the history that her mother shared with Master Vymes, it was still a strange notion, to look at them and know that they were mending their broken fences. That her Dad had died. That Zem Vymes was the closest thing to a father that she and Markos had now. And even then they hardly saw him unless it was necessary. He seemed even more of a stranger now then when they'd all been aboard Layla. It was a strange feeling, to say the least.

But of course, all of that she never tried to dwell on; it only further served to send her into a spiral of self-pity. And so, Teagan asked the only other obvious question, her eyes shifting downward to her fidgeting hands as her words came out half-mumbled.

"Did she kill him?"

"In the end, she didn't have to."

Zem's hands turned palm up in his lap.

"In the midst of all our arguing over it, nature took it's course, and he succumbed to blood loss. But it got heated enough to show the frayed edges for both of us."

He closed his eyes.

"And in the midst of all that, he just...went away. One more life gone. One we probably couldn't have made a difference for if we tried. But it was one more too many for me. After that...I knew something was wrong."

* * *

They were moving once more, their pace a faster one than before, and s'Il had to almost move at a trot to keep up with Zem. Her narrow gaze remained on his back as she reached out her hand, still bloodied from the body they'd left behind. Finger closed around the rough fabric of his overcoat, and she pulled him to a stop while trying to turn him about. She was only somewhat successful.

"What's wrong with you?!"

Her grip remained like iron, holding him in place.

"There was nothing we could've done but what he asked, and you wouldn't even let me do that!"

"You both got what you wanted, then!"

Zem-El pulled his arm free, and turned away from Lok. What's wrong with you?! There was something wrong. And he didn't know how to even begin to answer her.

"Just one more death. Doesn't matter, right?"

"And what would you have done?"

She threw the memory of that weak, agony-filled plea back at him, her words as clipped as his.

"Would you have prolonged his suffering?"

He turned away, but she was unwilling to allow him the luxury of not looking at her. A quick sidestep, and she moved to stand before him. What she saw in his face was worrying, and the Lupine let out a breath from between clenched teeth. What could she say? What could she do to pull him from this? She gave a small shake of her head.

"You once told me that we wouldn't be able to save everyone, and that for them we had to dignify their loss by fighting to bring back the peace that they'd once had."

"And a fat lot of good that's doing!"

In his anger, Zem kicked a piece of broken crate that lay in the path.

"I can't look another person in the face and know they're dead to the universe and know I can't do a thing about it! I'm pissing on my life's oath every single time I do it, and...and...I've got nothing! Nothing but that oath, and what good is that without something showing I've got what it takes to stand by it?"

Anguish crept onto Zem's face as he tried to say something else. Instead his lower lip shook, and he looked to the ground rather than face his pupil.

"You don't need to hear this, Loklorien. That's the worst of it."

She was silent, listening as he spoke. His words were backed by the sounds of crumbling destruction all around them, and s'Il grimaced. She let her head fall, and in the midst of it all, she brought a hand up to rest on his arm. What could she say? In the face of his inner turmoil, the Lupine had not a single word to give in comfort. She doubted that any words would help ease whatever he was feeling. But it did not stop her from acting, and she pulled him into an embrace. Her thoughts pushed outward in an attempt to soothe his own frayed nerves as she held him tightly. He'd once told her that he had to be strong for the both of them; now it was she who had to be strong for him. She had to be his rock, and it was a role that she was more than willing to take.

She'd seen as much death and destruction as he had, and it had hurt her to see such things. But she'd clung to his words from what seemed like lifetimes ago, clung to the idea that if they only kept going, only kept pushing against the Empire... they would emerge. Perhaps not unscathed, but they would come out at the end of it all.

Their time on the run, their time on Schwartzweld. Their time with Tam, their time with only each other before joining up with Dan's cell and the Rebellion's first beginnings. They had persevered on Hoth, on Talay, on Malastare, and even with the threat of the phantom Sith, they kept true. Even those early beginnings during the Clone Wars, her frustrations with him in those times she still counted among her memories. All of those moments in life seemed to replay through her mind's eye as she held him, clutching his body to hers.

And in that moment, only three words presented themselves in her thoughts. Only three words that could encompass all of their experiences.

"I love you."

Zem-El's mouth parted, the anguish replaced by something less acute. A sadness. She'd said something that in any other life would've been the best thing to hear. But the oath he'd taken was the one she'd taken as well. Good feelings and intentions had been dashed to the rocks so many times, and beyond the words Vymes heard, he also heard her future, and howling fickle winds that could carry her in directions he tried so hard to protect her from.

"Don't."

His lightsaber felt heavier than usual in his hands, pulled from his belt. Without looking at it, he pressed it into her hands.

"You're better than that, and better than I am."

Still she held fast to him, unwilling to take the hilt he was trying to press into her palm. She buried her face into the side of his neck, her eyes shut tight.

"No."

Her hand moved away, refusing to take his weapon. She instead wound her arm up and around his shoulder. If there was no fear before, it now manifested itself in terrible fashion, and the Lupine clung to him.

"It will get better," she whispered.

Even though all around them was nothing but death and destruction, she still held on to the hope that he'd so long ago instilled in her.

"I promise it will."

"If there's any hope in that happening, I can't stay with you."

Hurtful words, and Zem-El grieved even having to say them. But he'd seen how slippery the slope could be with Tam. He'd seen the change happen. Already he was wounded, and his heart was sick with grief over too much death. And Lok? She was trying to salve the pain with a love that would destroy her. It would be wrong to string her along on a hope. Unlike Tam, Zem-El's eyes were wide open, and he had time to make a difficult choice.

"You are a Jedi. That burden's never been as heavy as it is right now. But you have to carry it, and you have to do it without me."

A tear fell down Vymes' face as he pushed her away.

What had been a fledgling sense of fear now manifested fully, and s'Il resisted his push. Resisted his effort to separate them. She held tight, unable to release him. She heard his sabre clatter to the ground and roll a short distance before coming to a stop.

"I can't carry it without you... "

Her voice rasped out the words as if their desperate tone could pull him back. She had bared her emotions, and had been denied. And yet she refused. She could not accept his denial, and in the face of his efforts she stood firm.

"... how could I?"

"I don't know."

His voice wavered, and he shook his head, not having any of the answers she was desperate for. Zem-El already knew the truth, that he was too compromised to continue keeping his oath. Everything that weighed on his heart had already taken it's toll, and if he denied that, it would only be too easy for him to turn to the dark side. To make them all pay for the evils they'd done. All too easy.

"But you have to, Loklorien. Even if you do it alone. If you walk in my path, you'll destroy yourself."

"If I go alone... "

It didn't need to spoken of, the Man in Black. Of her own fears that he would come for her. That without Zem...

Her grip on him was unmoving, and she refused to accept his words. She couldn't accept them. She felt the first tear as it left a trail down her cheek and down onto his coat.

"You can't leave me alone... "

He wrenched himself free from her grasp.

"You don't get it! I'm done! Finished! There's no good for any of us if I stay. Everything inside of me is coming apart and if that alone doesn't destroy us both, then the Emperor will certainly make it happen. I won't be like the others! I won't! Not like Ventress, not like Vader. Not even like Tam Jeneel! And if that means I hurt you then so be it! That's better than you living on a sinking hope that's only going to lie to you later and kill you."

Finally pushed away, she stared up at him. Like a broken woman she stood, shoulders slumped and her entire body in a defeated stance. She felt another tear, and then another.

"No... "

She couldn't let him leave. She couldn't let him simply abandon her here to fend off whatever darkness that came calling. And in that moment she felt a pain so acute, so devastating. So gut-wrenching and final. Loklorien s'Ilancy would have cried out if she could have; instead her voice caught in her throat and all that managed to escape was a choked sob. Surrounded by such destruction and dead, all she could do was reach out to him - he who now pushed her away.

"Don't leave me alone," she stammered, stepping toward him once more as her hand went out to grab his sleeve.

"Please... "

The old adage went that it was best to pull a bandage off in one swift motion rather than a gradual and grueling one. Zem-El's fist connected with the side of Lok's face - a sucker punch that caught her unawares in the throes of the emotional moment. Zem-El winced at the pain in his knuckles as he watched his student fall to the ground. He was tired. So tired of trying to be strong. Trying and losing. Dropping to the ground beside her, he could now fully let go of his grief, and he cried where no one could hear him.

When she came to, he would be gone. Taking the ship and leaving her with his lightsaber, but not without sending a message to Dan to explain things as best he could. Dan wouldn't be able to understand either, no doubt, but Vymes could live with that. It was much harder to face the look of anguish on Loklorien s'Ilancy's face. With any hope, he'd never see her again, and she'd be much better because of it.

* * *

"You... hit her."

It wasn't spoken in accusation, but more of a monotone that simply conveyed understanding. Teagan let herself lean back in her chair, looking up to Master Vymes. It was a long few minutes before she spoke again.

"Where did you go?"

"As far as I had fuel to go. I don't remember."

Zem shook his head, looking off in the distance.

"Somewhere in the outer rim. Far from the Empire. Kept my eyes open for the Rebels and Jedi, and kept my distance from them too. I had a lot of ties to sever, and some don't cut as clean as others. I had to give up a part of me that I didn't know how to live without. I just ran scared and grief sick for so long, and tried to do whatever the hell I could to come to grips."

She nodded at that, in a sort of way that children do when they understand the base roots of what adults speak of. She could grasp what he spoke of well enough, and it touched a chord deep within her own heart. He'd said he was sick with grief - and that was exactly what she felt. Her eyes fell to look away from him, half-lidded. For a moment she thought about her Dad again, but it was brushed away in the next instant, as quickly as the tear that she now brushed away with the back of her hand.

She gave a small sniff, and rested her chin on one knee, still looking away.

"When she said it - that she loved you," there was a hesitation, but she went on.

"... even though you didn't say it back," there was a sort of curiosity at work, and in her mind she had to know. Just as much as she had to know why he'd left so many years back, she also had to know the unspoken question that she now asked.

Did you love her all those years ago?

"I didn't even know what it meant. My entire life was as a Jedi. Brought up from not much older than your brother is, and that was all I'd ever known. I knew attachment was forbidden, as they said in the old times. Putting someone up on a higher pedestal than the oath you lived by. But all that said, I think if I'd known then what I know now..."

Zem's voice wavered, and he seemed to chew on words he couldn't say, only nodding.

"Even if I knew what to call it, I knew I couldn't say it. And that was the worst of it all. Seeing her hurt like that, and the only good thing I had to give her was more hurt."

Vymes leaned back, a tear cascading down his face.

Teagan said nothing, not even giving a nod of acknowledgement. Instead she still sat, her chin on her knee as she stared at the far wall of Master Vymes' tent. It seemed so far away, yet at the same time so close. Her eyes wandered then, to the closed 'doorway' that led to his sleeping area, the to the far table that seemed to function as a sort of counter. It held all manner of supplies, from caf beans to datapads. Finally her gaze settled on his lunch pail, and the food within that remained untouched. She bit her lip.

"You and the other Jedi," her voice was small as she started, "... always say that my Dad was... was evil."

It was hard to speak the next words, but she went on anyway.

"And even if it was all a lie, he did make us happy."

Her last words came out in a whisper. Not spoken to accuse, but rather to try and smooth over the regret. And even if it was a poor attempt, it was an attempt regardless. Something she spoke of to try and ease the burden of that horrid decision made so long ago.

"He made her happy."

Running a finger along his face to remove the offending stain, Zem acknowledged her assessment.

"I suppose he did. As wicked a lie as it was, it at least did that much. And then your happiness was abused, manipulated, and taken away. I wish I had some way to take that hurt away from the both of you and pile it up on my old beaten-up heart. You both deserve more than you've been given."

It didn't escape her notice, his tear. Looking at him from over the tops of her eyes, the young Lupine let out a long breath. He spoke of his heart being old and beaten up. It was a thought that almost made her frowm, but in the reality of the moment, she had her own assessments. And perhaps it was the first glimmer of her own full understanding of things. Of the beginnings of acceptance.

She stared at him, almost as if she was seeing him again for the first time. Through all of his pain and heartache, through all of his inner demons and trials. He spoke of her and her mother and Markos deserving more than what was given, but...

"So do you."

It was spoken quietly, but with a voice that held a sure tone.

"Dama loves you."

Zem looked at the young girl, appreciating just how much of her mother that she favored.

"I know she does."

He'd known since the start. Even if he didn't know what it meant, much less how he felt. He knew the feeling when he was near it. Knew the heartache when it was pulled away. Whatever the Jedi code demanded of commitment wasn't to be ignored, but so too weren't the stirrings of the heart. Love was so much like the force. In it's name, capricious and terrible things could be done, but so too could the noblest of deeds.

"And I love her too."