Disclaimer: I don't own Star Wars and Knights of the Old Republic, or anything related to it. They totally own me.

Author's Notes: This is my entry for what was originally the 2006 holiday challenge, now greatly delayed due to the glorious alert system of our dear site here.

The title, I think, deserves some sort of explanation. It goes hand in hand (for me) with the way Atris goes along with the events, and yet she is so... out of them.

It was intended to be much shorter than it presently is, but it got out of hand as I wrote and lost count. Therefore, it will be posted with three chapters. Of course, all of them are dedicated to Auros Sopherai, who made this request. Enjoy. ;) And Happy Late Holidays.


ONE

The Memory Remains

One by one, the mettlesome passengers descended the ramp, and their faces were flooded by sunlight, gaining the same brightness that the environment was already soaked in. Somehow, Dantooine's sun never failed to appear as a searing presence, an impression that was promptly denied as one stepped on the planet's surface. With all her years of training in the Force, Atris never managed to avoid the pattern.

Today, that bore less importance than ever, since far greater matters weighed on the woman's mind, so she dismissed all speculations on the subject quickly, as she headed into the Jedi Enclave. Its corridors, in their lack of windows, created a strong contrast with the outside, appearing chilly despite the fact that they were not. But Atris was not here to study that, either; the Mandalorian War had gained some considerable proportions and something needed to be organized, before more Jedi decided to go after Revan.

So far, they had only attempted to quiet down the many confused voices in the Order, which, in their need of guidance, were especially loud here, so far away from Coruscant. Of course, Atris was not an official part of that; they had, as usual, sent Vrook instead, like he was any good with people. But she hoped that she might still be able to affect some things, from an unofficial stand, if her friend agreed to help. To tell the truth, she had another reason also – not having seen him in as long as two or three years, she missed him terribly, a feeling that she had to mask carefully; some in the Order might have thought it improper.

At the time, the halls were bathed in an amalgam of Force patterns, with all the Padawans she encountered and the small individual protuberances they created in her general perception; they all seemed to be heading for the same place. As she passed, many of them recognized her, no doubt due to the white Historian robes, and she was able to anticipate their greetings. She reciprocated, as required, but did not stop to chat with anyone; she sought the familiar figure of one of the members of the secondary council here on Dantooine.

As the Force willed it, the first one she found was contained in the diminutive frame of the mysterious Master Vandar, whose origins and race were still unknown to this day, despite all the years he had so far devoted to the Order. Atris greeted him with a small semi-formal bow and Vandar nodded, with what she had come to recognize for a smile imprinted on his face. As a child, she had found his pointy ears to be very funny and they had been the subject of some harmless jokes between her and an old friend, but such thoughts were no more than a distant memory to the adult she was now.

"Has something happened on Coruscant?" was Vandar's first concern, even if calmly formulated.

"No," Atris hurried to deny. "I am not here to represent the others... they've already sent Vrook for that."

"He arrived a few days ago," Vandar nodded, and Atris could notice how tired he was, a detail that had, at first, eluded her. "He is currently with the Padawans whose Masters left."

"Good," Atris acknowledged; sometimes, it could be difficult to show no aversion when it came to the continually moody and displeased Vrook. "But I am not here to speak to him, either. I need to see Jadion Viddas."

Vandar's ears plied themselves along the sides of his round head, for only a moment, before returning to normal. Atris knew that expression as well – it was some sort of unease, similar to when a human shifted his weight.

"He is not here," the diminutive Master formulated his reply with care.

The first thing that occurred to the woman was, naturally, that her friend had gone to war. But as she tried to keep her heart from beating faster, she realized how silly and improbable that was; on the very first signs of unrest in the Order, Jadion had promised her that he wouldn't defy the Council, even if the others would. Perhaps he had gone to try and bring them back, all by himself, which seemed a lot more like him.

"Where is he?" the woman inquired.

"He was... among the first to go with Revan," Vandar replied quietly, a glint of sad compassion appearing in his eyes when he sustained her incredulous stare.

"This cannot be," Atris denied vehemently. "He said..." Her fists clenched and she came on the verge of being unable to control the strange, empty anger she felt. He had broken his promise!

Then, a young girl walked in, a Padawan, and Atris had to recompose herself and smile pleasantly, in order not to look like a fool. The girl didn't mind her much after nodding curtly, though, and her gray-blue eyes turned to Vandar.

"Master Vrook has sent me to ask for assistance," she reported, rather agitatedly. "He says there are simply too many Padawans and too few Masters."

The diminutive figure gave the girl a brief apprehensive glance, then shook his head gently. "There is no emotion, young Bastila," he attempted to diminish her obvious worry. "Remember that; we will find a solution."

"Of course, Master Vandar," she lowered her gaze to the floor. "The other Masters think we could, if more than one apprentice was assigned to a Master, or if we allowed the recently knighted to train."

Atris regarded this Bastila with concealed interest; she was a mere Padawan, inexperienced and a bit insecure, and yet she appeared to possess some special status here, out of the ordinary ranks. Still, however much she wished to elucidate the matter's mystery, this was not her business. She focused back on Vandar, in time to find him sighing heavily; he was about to reply when something seemed to occur to him and he turned to Atris.

"Many Padawans were abandoned in the favor of war," he explained. "Most of them are now confused and in need of guidance."

Atris didn't have to be a genius or exceptionally skilled with the Force to clearly realize what he really meant. She had chosen not to train any Padawans so far; and now Masters were needed. On the other hand, she had no particular desire to see Vrook. He would undoubtedly jump to conclusions about her being here. And still...

Very well, she thought, barely concealing a small sigh. If I wish to help, I might as well start this way.

"I would be glad to provide for one of them," she offered, as she was expected to.

Vandar nodded, with obvious relief. "Bastila," he addressed the young girl, in his usual raspy voice. "Please show Master Atris the way."

The girl nodded absently and regarded the white-robed Jedi Historian with a hint of curiosity, before starting to lead her along a corridor.


Her apprentice's name was Vanarth Shard; he was a sixteen-year-old human, more focused on his connection with the Force than any other part of the Jedi training and, if calm and obedient, a bit too secretive to allow the proper development of a bond. At first, Atris had chosen him because, of all Padawans, he had been the one to actually strike her as lonely, abandoned, just like she felt at the time. Now, half a year later, she knew it had been the Force; Vanarth's last Master had been Jadion, ever since his first had died on a mission.

He even had the same eyes... It was not about the shape and even the color was another, but, to Atris, that expression, that enigmatic way of looking at things was simply unmistakable.

Training was going better than she had expected; the boy was a quicker learner than most and dedicated much time to understanding the Force. But, because of him, Atris could not forget all she would have liked to.

And as if the boy wasn't enough, here he was, the man himself, trying to remind her he existed. Six months and he suddenly seemed to think he could contact her via holonet and smile the way he did.

She had to admit that, even if it was a simple projection in shades of blue, changes were visible on the man's face. He was paler, maybe, and undoubtedly had not slept in a while, with all the worries he appeared to be carrying behind his lost-looking eyes. Alone, the smile was still the same, smooth and kind, speaking of affection.

Why couldn't she tell him that he wasn't wanted? She wished to do it, so much.

The truth was Atris had yet to say anything at all, as she had resorted to pacing the room nervously, while the projection watched her, a bit puzzled, but otherwise patient. Finally, she posted herself in front of him, fists clenched to remind her she needed to look determined and strong, and her eyes flashed.

"Why?" she asked coldly. "Why did you leave?"

He shrugged, his apologetic manner lacking enough interest to actually look convincing. "Is that really the question, Atris? Or is it why I didn't take you with me?"

"You promised you would stay," the woman stubbornly accused again, ignoring his assumption.

"Atris," he breathed out, with a small, exhausted sigh. "I wanted you to be safe at home, that's all. You wouldn't bear through... all that is here."

The woman felt as if her blood was boiling, ready to burst out of her in a million places. How could he claim to know her enough to make a decision in her stead? How could he even think she would have gone to war, anyway, defying all the ideals of the Jedi and everything that the Council had said? For a moment, she regretted he was not there in person, for her to punch some sense into.

"And your apprentice?" she spat, trying to dominate him with simulated, exterior indifference, and wielding the new, graver critique, as a heavy weapon.

"The same," the man replied quickly, before realizing what her new question implied. "Atris?" he probed, insecure. "How did you know I--?"

"I am his Master now," she interrupted briskly. "But if you think your abandon left him unscathed, you are utterly mistaken."

"He's probably safer with you than he could have ever been with me," Jadion argued calmly.

"Indeed," Atris replied stiffly. "You are an irresponsible liar, and you deserve to be--"

She stopped, for the projection blinked suddenly out of existence, then back in, then out for good. The connection was lost and there were so many possibilities... Maybe he had suffered an attack, she thought at first, as she paced the room yet again and waited for another call. But there was none; perhaps he just didn't want to hear more of her frustrated accusations.

Atris felt like a fool; and worse yet, she was sorry that she had not made the courage to tell him she still cared. Most likely, left out as she felt, she never would.

So... alone.

"Yes," she concluded through gritted teeth. "Yes, I blame you."