Whoops.

Here, have a thing. Let me know how I did and stuff.

Also before anyone asks, yes I totally ripped off the grenade bit from JustInunotaisho, all credit goes to that lovely individual, I couldn't have even thought of it, you're much more brilliant a mind than I.

"I seriously don't know why you two are arguing; I caught him. He's mine."

The women both stopped walking to face each other. The limber, white-haired woman gave her counterpart a sideways glance and replied, "I do not understand. You wish to make a profit, do you not? Why seek for his approval?"

The scantily-clad redhead sighed. "Oh you poor thing; that's how you get your target! You make 'em like ya, show off a slight touch of skin and they'll come knocking down your door. Give 'em a quick Bonthan stunner to the chest, double check the bounty on his head, ship 'em off to whoever's paying, and you're rich!" She had a dreamy look on her face. "Credits are a girl's best friend."

The other woman shook her head. "That hardly sounds like a stable relationship."

"Maybe if you're into that lovesick puppy shit it's not," she looked back off into the distance, "Me? I love my targets," she said with a shrug.

The conversation died there, but it didn't fall on deaf ears, for the Ebon Hawk is certainly not the biggest vessel in space.

After spending a month on the moon of Dxun, every crew member aboard the Ebon Hawk was caked in mud, had itchy trigger-fingers, and were, suffice it to say, irritable.

The Zabrak, Bao-Dur, busied himself with clearing the junk off of his mechanical arm, having not been able to use it for the past two days. His self-made remote fluttered about trying to lend a helping hand, but otherwise he kept quiet like he usually does.

The pilot, Atton Rand, bitched and moaned all the way to the 'fresher, where he bitched and moaned with hot water pouring down his face, then bitched and moaned a bit more until his eyelids were magnetically sealed shut. Then, while dreaming, he bitched and moaned again, for some ungodly reason.

That Echani girl, never got her name, had to run her white robes in the wash three times to even slightly touch the grime that accumulated from the muck and blood of Dxun's undesirables. She had to strip to her skivvies for most of the time, but for some reason she didn't mind at all, and neither did any of the male crew members, apparently.

Kreia and the Miraluka, Visas, let their discomfort be known in their own cryptic way that made it sound like it was the end of the galaxy and life as we know it. It was only in one such instance, but it still was unheard of that the two would even complain.

The droids must have been checked a dozen times over, their servo's and hinges having been solidified from all the gunk and rust. HK-47 was especially unhappy and had to be separated from Bao-Dur four times before anything ugly happened, and G0-T0 was not too far away from going berserk in the Main Hold, calling the entire Exchange down on the Ebon Hawk.

Even the fearless leader, Surik, had a look of defeat upon his matured features; his auburn hair was disheveled, his beard unkempt. His displeasure wasn't made apparent, but he certainly tried to not echo the very loud sentiment of tiredness. It didn't help that his entire crew let him know that they would never set foot on that moon again.

And then there was the huntress, Mira, who's vibrant red hair look very much more putrid brown, and her leather apparel stained for what she approximated could be decades. She had resorted to wearing just her green crop top and spare pair of leather pants, having her jacket being thoroughly attended to.

Everyone looked and felt like shit, and nobody wanted to hear any bullshit from nobody, so the Ebon Hawk remained rather silent for the ensuing two days, with nods being the only acknowledgment to the fact that there were other living beings on the ship.

The silence was finally broken when Surik stumbled upon Mira in her usual spot, on the floor in the Main Hold, with bits and pieces of grenades strewn about. The huntress was used to the broken Jedi asking for some of her grenades and normally she'd oblige him. Her multitude of sonic and plasma grenades delighted Surik, as he never truly delighted in killing his foes.

The man stood in front of Mira, and then bent his knees to be on her level, somewhat. "Oi, hot stuff."

Having not heard a voice in the past couple of days, Mira was shocked to be greeted by Surik's bassy tone. Her pet name bothered her, she never liked being sexualized, even though she dressed the part. Her eyes narrowed. "What do you want old man?" she asked with a touch bit more venom than she anticipated.

Surik shrugged it off, though; he knew everybody wasn't the happiest. His eyes drifted down, past her delicious curves, and laid on the components the cluttered the floor. "How's the grenades comin'?"

Mira had her hands full with a nervous gas grenade and sighed, exasperated. "Can't tell ya, chief. Dxun was murder on my back, I think I need a spa day," she fake moaned.

The Exile rolled his eyes. "Well I do apologize, ma'am, is there anything I can do to win back your heart?" he asked, faux-apologetically.

The redhead actually barked with laughter, "Ha! Maybe if I slap on a pair o' cuffs on ya and we meet up with The Exchange, I'll think about it,"

Surik chucked, himself, "I didn't know you were into that kinda stuff, Red," he held up his right hand before Mira began to protests, "barring that, let's hope we actually don't let that happen, eh?"

Mira grumbled something about dirty old perverts but nodded her head. "I suppose I can hold off turning you in until the immediate threat is gone... But don't think I'm taking my eyes off of you! You Jedi type are all the same..."

He patted her on the shoulder with his right hand accompanied by a small smile, "I don't think I'm quite cut out to be called a Jedi anymore, girly."

Mira scrunched her face. "Explain." It was an order, not a request.

There was a slight pause, and Surik's first response was to let loose a sigh that expunged every last bit of air from his lungs. He rubbed his eyes with his right hand and rolled his shoulders back. "To make a long story short, the title of Jedi is a privilege, not a catchall for anyone force-sensitive. I lost the right to call myself when I followed Revan and when I destroyed Malachor V. Whenever I get called a Jedi it makes my skin crawl; I don't deserve to be called a Jedi, anymore."

Mira, having studied her target, knew at least a little bit of the Exile's past, and yet she was still entranced by the tale. "And... the long version?"

The silence was deafening.

"Well," he started, "when Malachor V was destroyed I lost myself. The destruction of a planet weighs down on me every. Single. Day. I can still hear the Mass Shadow Generator whirring to life, bringing death to..." his eyes glazed over, "... thousands? Tens of thousands? The echoes of every person who passed on that graveyard of a planet made me forget what it was like to live. I knew death and only death for a long time when I skulked the Outer Rim. I didn't know peace. I didn't know compassion. And that's what makes a Jedi a Jedi. When I returned to the Jedi Temple on Coruscant I already knew of my fate with the Council. It was just a formality. They stripped me of my title, my lightsaber, and whatever last connection I had with the Force. They said my actions have caused a wound in the Force, and frankly I believe them. I'm just now relearning what it means to use the Force, believe it or not. I've got a good hold of what it all means, but I'm still far from the Jedi I used to be."

Mira was floored. "Well... I didn't mean..."

His charming smile returned. "S'quite alright, hot stuff, I know ya didn't mean nothing from it." He patted her hand with his left, smile never leaving. The touch was electric to her. "Just keep your eye on the prize, yeah?"

Her gaze went back to her hands where she held a fully constructed and functional grenade. "But-"

His smile turned into a roguish grin, "I guess you'll have 'em ready in a bit, yeah?" He pushed himself off the floor and gave her a wink.

Mira grumbled to herself and started working on the next grenade, but her thoughts constantly drifting back to that slight touch, the sensation it wrought.

"This is stupid," she growled, "I've done way more than held a man's hand... Why is this...?" She growled in frustration.

Atton steadied the Ebon Hawk on the landing platform in Nar Shadaa and sighed. "Remind me what the hell are we even doing here?" He asked, grumpily.

Our fearless leader chuckled at Atton's unhappiness. "Steady there, Rand, don't wanna get yaself in ulcer, yeah?" Atton responded with a few choice words. "But to answer ya question, I have ta let a certain somebody know 'bout the Mandalorians on Dxun; hopefully they'll join up with Mandalore's clan and they'll trust us that much more."

The pilot grunted in disagreement. "We spent four weeks in that damn jungle and you're worried they might not like us? They should be bowing at our feet!"

Surik laughed again, "That'd be a sight ta see, it would."

"Welllll if you're doing that shit, I'm getting a drink!" Atton exclaimed, leaving no room for argument.

Surik raised his hands in response, "Hey mate, if you wanna drink yaself to a stupor, go right ahead. But Bao-Dur's flyin' if that's the case."

"Do I have mynocks in my ears or did you just speak the worse heresy on this side of the galaxy?"

"Ya heard right, Rand. But hey, enjoy your drink, mate." Surik winked and left the cockpit, hearing some offhand comment from the lackadaisical smuggler.

Surik took a seat in the Communications room for a moment to go over his journal when he felt a presence behind him. It was small... human.

"Oi, girly, mind not sneaking up on the old man? Give me a heart attack why dontcha..."

Mira stood upright. "Well if you're gonna take my joke at least give me some credit, old man..."

Surik laughed heartily, turning to face her. "And what do I owe the pleasure of your company, miss?"

Mira all of a sudden felt very, very small compared to his frame, even while he was sitting. "Um.. well.."

Surik stood up, a somewhat concerned look on his face. "Ya look a touch restless, Mira, everything alright?"

She sighed in frustration, not holding back. "It's all this damn travelling. This ship is nice and all but it's too small. I wanna be out there, doing something! It's just... It's just too quiet."

"You'd rather be back out here in Nar Shadaa?"

"Yeah... It's been a minute since i last went off-world, guess I was used to having solid ground under my feet and living breathing world surrounding me. Say what you want about the city, it's a shit hole, it's a cesspool.. but it has a charm to it. There's life. Energy. All the white noise, it's like the constant hum of a hyperdrive... I miss it. It's relaxing."

Surik scratched his chin in thought. "I've listened in on the planet, before. All life is connected, bound to each other, even in a scummy world like this." He paused. "I can teach ya how to hear it all, if it pleases ya."

Mira pulled her head back. "Yeah, well, I wouldn't take it that far, ya know? It's a lovely sentiment, but I'll believe it when I see it."

The exile scratched his neck. "I can show ya now, if you're so inclined to see."

Mira couldn't really explain why, but she felt like this was a turning point for her, if she accepted, there was no way to go back to being the same old fiery bounty hunter she is.

And strangely...

That didn't seem too bad.

She crossed her arms under her ample chest. "Show me."

Surik grinned. "Follow along."

Mira and Surik were tight-lipped as they made their way about the Refugee Sector. Mira's hands were balled into fists as they strolled past what must have been absolutely lovely folks. She couldn't explain why, but she knew that the Exile had a plan for her; he was only quiet when he in deep thought.

Without even noticing, she ran right into the back of Surik, who turned around and gave her a half smirk, and she could only respond with a sheepish gaze.

His face hardened. "This is the spot."

She looked at him. "Sooo... what now?"

"Close your eyes."

"...Why?"

"Just do it." He ordered sharply.

Mira was slightly taken aback, but complied. "Alright, but you better not try and cop a feel," she warned.

Surik eyed her buxom frame from the corner of his eye. "I promise nothing."

She giggled, genuinely giggled, and then closed her eyes. "Ok, now what?"

Surik slipped behind her and placed his hands on her shoulders. "Open your mind. Feel the ebb and flow of all life around you. Feel Nar Shadaa."

The touch on her shoulders took her aback, any time they touched it felt like fire, but she continued along. "I.. I don't.."

"Look. Not with your eyes. But with everything else. This... is the Force."

She held her eyes tight and reached out. Her senses alighted and she, for the first time, saw.

It wasn't much. She felt the presence of the vendor not twenty paces away from the two... but she saw him, felt him...

Knew him.

Slowly, but surely, many different presences became know to her. Within a minute of her finding the presence of the one vendor, she soon felt the existence of everyone in the whole sector.

"This... is amazing," she whispered, exasperated. Simply the act of opening her mind had already drained a lot out of her.

"Now..." he whispered into her ear.

"Awaken."

Everything. All at once. Every person. Every droid. Every ship. Every thing came crashing upon her senses. She heard tens of thousands of suffering refugees. She felt the wickedness of the smugglers and the bandits dotting the cantina. She smelled the exhaust of countless starships landing and departing from Nar Shadaa.

There was not a single thing she couldn't... feel.

"It's... it's loud... everything... It HURTS! I CAN'T SHUT IT OUT!" she screamed, clutching her head but keeping her eyes shut. "All those people..." she meekly whispered.

Surik's grip on her shoulders tightened. "Steady, Mira. The hopes and dreams of an entire planet are surrounding you. It won't go away. But I can teach you to block it out, to become one with the madness." He paused. "To become a Jedi."

She opened her eyes and turned to him, her voice quivering. "B-but if I become a Jedi, I'd have to turn myself in for all the credits," she said sheepishly.

The broken Jedi smiled. "Well, maybe not a Jedi. But I can teach you what I know."

"You. Are going to train me?"

"Only if you'll have me."

Mira took a step closer to Surik. "I want you to." She took another step. "I am tired of running, I'm tired of being scared, I'm tired of being hunted!" At this point, their noses might as well have been touching. "I want to be like you! I want to be strong! I want..." she circled her arms around his back and buried her face into his chest. "I want to be able to be... who I am, and not worry... I want to be able to heal the echo of what I once was."

Surik gently moved a lock of her vibrant red hair from her face. "You can live your entire life hearing those echoes, Red." He smiled. "But I can teach you to accept them."

She smiled too. "That don't sound too bad from where I'm standing."

Something about their close proximity had Mira's senses on meltdown. She had goosebumps just touching the man, and it was at that point that she knew.

There was one last thing that she wanted.

Without hesitation, Mira got up on her tip-toes and pressed her lips to Surik's.

It was small, chaste, and finished much too quickly. Surik brought his hand under her chin and pulled her into a deeper, more drawn out kiss, that was even more electric than the last. They eventually broke, and stood together in silence for a while, enjoying the warmth that emanated from each other.

Surik Meetra grinned a toothy grin. "Don't think that just because you have a rockin' body means you get first dibs on training."

Mira laughed aloud and smacked his arm. "Like you could even keep up with me, old man," she replied before jumping into his arms and kissing him again.