Passion and Serenity

by SirMandokarla

SWTOR: The Legacy. Returning home after fourteen years, Jedi Master Embry Azeel barely remembers her family. Her sister, Captain Azeel of Havoc Squad, has just as little idea what to expect, and her own troubles to deal with at home.

Brown robes rustled and a soft, crooning hum danced through the little metal room as Embry Azeel packed her things into a backpack. A spare robe, a datapad, and a few changes of undergarments went in first. Slender green fingers flitted and fidgeted with organizing her possessions, then she pushed them aside and dropped a pair of durable hiking boots into the bottom of the bag.

A smile graced her face as she thought of exploring her old home. Scars distorted it and made soft features look jagged, but they couldn't hide the innocent joy there.

She'd need the hiking boots, of that she was sure. Jedi Master Azeel had exactly three memories of what her childhood had been like before she was taken into the Order, and one of them was of getting lost in a beautiful ravine somewhere near her home. She planned to find that place again, with its vine-covered walls and lively green grass and that mysterious little cave.

"Oh, Embry, are you really going to bring such drab clothing back home?"

Embry turned her smile on a beautiful young woman in very little clothing, who watched her pack with a concerned pout. A purple pout, and translucent, because the woman was a hologram.

Holiday melted at the look. Purple hands with brighter purple fingernails came up to cover perfectly shaped lips. "Oh, Embry, I didn't mean to be mean, I just thought you could impress your parents. I don't really have any, so I've been imagining, running simulations of what it would be like, and I thought…"

She trailed off when Embry giggled quietly and raised a hand.

"I'm not offended, Holiday," Embry assured the AI. "I've been thinking about it, too. I just think your clothing shows who you are, and mine does the same. We've both made ourselves into who we are today. I think it's better to show that to my parents."

"Well, technically, Tharan made me into who I am today." Holiday gave a laugh like a soft wind orchestra, beautiful and complex.

"And the Jedi made me into who I am." Embry smiled, long since used to heading off the hologram's existential musings. Then she changed topics. "You'll keep Qyzen and Tharan out of trouble while I'm gone?"

"Oh, you know I can't make Tharan do anything." Holiday pouted with weaponized cuteness. Then she brightened slightly. "But Qyzen is going on a hunting trip with an old friend."

"Oh," Embry let slip a note of surprise. Then she laughed and shook her head, going back to packing her few belongings into her bag. A rope, a spare holocom, and… well, that was it, wasn't it? Anything else, she could purchase with credits supplied by the Jedi Order or would be there when she arrived at her parents' home.

"I guess I'd been thinking he would insist on coming with me," Embry admitted. "I was all ready to explain to my parents that my friend wanted to see the place I was born and ask if they might provide him shelter for the stay."

Then she caught herself unpacking her backpack for no reason. She put everything back and closed the bag, then moved to sit on her bed. Holiday came to sit beside her, even though the AI couldn't sit at all.

"Maybe I am nervous," Embry admitted with a laugh. There was genuine mirth to it, laughing at her own Jedi pretence, but a little fear, too. "I haven't seen my parents since I was almost too young to remember."

Almost. Another of the three memories she had. She'd been in a speeder, sitting beside her sister and trying to peek over the side at the city in the distance. These days, Embry couldn't remember what the city looked like or what her parents had said to her or even what they looked like. All she remembered was her sister pulling her back. M're had shaken her head until her hair came loose and caught in the wind like a flurry of autumn leaves, and Embry had laughed.

Holiday placed an ethereal hand on Embry's. Though she couldn't feel it, the young Mirialan took some comfort in the thought. She turned her hand upside down and spread her fingers so Holiday could mimic holding her hand.

"Don't worry, Embry," Holiday said, leaning on Embry's shoulder, "They'll love you. You're a wonderful girl, anybody can see that. Besides, it's what parents do. Like Tharan."

Embry didn't comment on the AI, only a few years old, calling her a girl, nor mention that Tharan's love for Holiday didn't really come across as completely paternal. Those details didn't really matter.

"I could come with you, if you'd like," Holiday offered.

Embry almost said yes. As she opened her mouth, though, she shook her head. "And leave Tharan unsupervised?"

"I'm sure he'd be alright for a week," Holiday said, sounding much less sure than she claimed.

Embry's smile changed subtly, though her scars shifted to enhance the difference.

Holiday sighed and Embry laughed, murmured to let Holiday know she was moving, and stood up. She picked up her bag and walked out of the room.

"I'll see you all in a couple of weeks," she called back softly.

Holiday smiled and flitted forward to give Embry a hug she felt in spirit, if not in person. "I'll count the minutes," she said fondly. "Have a wonderful time, Embry."

With that, the Barsen'thor left the ship on the most nerve-wracking mission of her life.

---

Captain Azeel stuffed her bag with the speed of long practice. Hygiene kit, spare boots and clothes, ammunition for her sidearm, a few classier clothing items, set of macrobinoculars, rappel line and mag-clamp piton, hyperspace transponder holocom, ion fission batteries for her shield generator, deflated ball and pump-

"Are you packing for a war or R&R?" asked an incredulous voice from the doorway.

Azeel looked up from trying to fit her hair dye and colour contact lens case beside each other. Sergeant Aric Jorgan was standing perfectly outside the the edge of the Captain's quarters, arms crossed and glaring slightly, which was almost like a smile for him.

With a quick addition of a pair of boots and sunglasses, Azeel shot a grin at her squadmate and said, "yes." Then she straightened and brushed a silvery dreadlock out of her eyes. "Did you want me, Sergeant?"

Aric scowled, as he always did when she flirted with him. If she was being honest, that was what made it fun. He was cute when he scowled. It made his furry little ears tilt back in a way that looked wild.

"Lieutenant Dorne has requested your presence, sir."

Azeel cocked an eyebrow at the gruff tone, but shrugged at the message. "Well," she said, walking up close enough to feel the cathar's breath, "I'm sure she could wait… an hour or two, if you wanted to come in."

It was an injustice of the universe that cathar didn't blush, but Aric definitely thought about taking a step back. She could just tell. Even when he met her grin with that ever-present scowl of his, he couldn't help his interest, and that worried him.

Silly man. It wasn't his fault she was gorgeous.

"Don't waste the lieutenant's time. Sir."

And the man had no idea what his growl felt like, standing so close to him. No idea at all.

Azeel stepped forward and slid past Aric with a quick wink. As she sashayed down the ship's hall, she threw one last comment back.

"If you ever change your mind, my door is always open, Sergeant."

Let the stick-in-the-mud think about that while she was away.

That last thought wiped the smile from her face, so she added a little extra sway to her hips to distract herself. She made sure not to look back before turning the corner into Elara's room.

Azeel's second-in-command was sitting perfectly straight at her desk, blonde hair pulled back in such a tight bun it had to give her a headache. Elara's eyes darted from her terminal, then she stood up and snapped a crisp, perfect salute.

"Sir," she said in greeting.

Azeel grimaced. "Will you relax if I salute back?"

"Yes, sir."

As best she could, Azeel returned the salute. It was sloppy, her posture was off and there was supposed to be a certain height and angle to the hand, but dammit, she tried. After about half a second of holding the position, she snorted. "Alright, that's enough."

With a wave of both hands, Azeel relaxed and, just a little, so did Elara.

"You'd look better with your hair down," Azeel said, smiling.

Elara smiled faintly, but didn't say anything.

"Ugh, permission to speak freely and all that!"

This time, Elara almost seemed to chuckle. "You might appear professional if you could hold a salute longer than a single second, sir."

"I will give you a raise to stop calling me that."

"I'm quite happy with a Lieutenant's salary, sir. You will have to find something better to bargain with." She leaned forward and picked up a datapad from her desk, expression slightly more businesslike than before. As she handed the pad to Azeel, she said, "now, as for the matter I asked you here for, sir." She was doing it on purpose now. "There are several forms that require your authorization before you leave."

Azeel's expression went from playfully irritated to flat in an instant.

"Sir, is-"

"I'll do it." She looked at the datapad, skimming over what looked like high-clearance requisition forms, and turned to leave.

"S- Captain Azeel."

That stopped her. Azeel pasted a confident smile on her face and turned back to look at Elara. Elara wasn't fooled. The lieutenant hadn't moved, her back was as straight as ever, but she looked concerned.

Azeel tried to ignore it. After all, she was fine. She was always fine. That was how COs worked.

"Is there something wrong?"

Azeel waved a hand dismissively and shook her head. "Nothing's wrong, Elara. I'm up for vac-"

"Off the record, Captain."

Azeel stopped herself and stared. Elara was standing the same way she always did, back straight and legs perfectly spaced apart, but her face showed real concern.

The mirialan opened her mouth to deny everything again before she stopped herself.

"Off the record?" she asked.

Elara nodded. "Yes, s…" She trailed off at the wary look her captain gave her. "Yes… Captain Azeel."

Azeel took a few steps away, pressed the panel to close the room's door, and turned back as it hissed closed. Elara still stood there, as cold and perfect as ever, almost like Azeel had imagined what they'd both said.

It was easy to lean back against the wall, almost casually, like she didn't need it for support. She opened her mouth before she'd figured out what to say, as usual, and had to close it again. This happened twice before she managed, "what would you do if you saw your family again?"

Elara froze like a wild animal in searchlights.

"Off the record," Azeel repeated. "What if you could see Aleksai again, but you had to meet Vasil and Artia, too?"

She didn't wait for Elara to respond. It wasn't that sort of question, anyway. "You don't know what Aleksai thinks, right? He's probably confused why his sister did what she did, but besides that, it's beyond guessing. You can guess how Vasil feels, though. Career Imperial through and through. As for your mother, she'll always love you, but that doesn't change who she is or the family she's part of. It doesn't change what you've done."

Azeel couldn't meet her squadmate's eyes. She tried to force a grin, but it wouldn't come.

"Captain," Elara said slowly, "we're not really talking about my family, are we?"

Captain Azeel of Havoc Squad tossed Elara a self-deprecating smirk. "No, LT. We're really not."

---

Vechao was beautiful from orbit, green and blue with vast expanses of red denoting the three great deserts on two of its four continents.

Not that Embry would be landing anywhere near those. Her destination was just south of the equator, in a respectable metropolis not far from her family home.

She'd had to look all of that information up. It had been a long time since she'd been to Vechao and the Jedi Order didn't approve of family attachments. To Embry, her childhood before the Order was a fond memory of her parents and sister, an image of her favourite quiet place, and the memory of the day she'd discovered her power. She didn't have anything like knowledge of where her home was on the planet.

The shuttle rumbled slightly as it hit atmosphere and its inertial dampeners compensated for the impact.

"We're officially in Vechao 'air' space," the pilot joked.

Embry smiled. Not at the joke, which had been terrible, but at the man finding light in something as simple as flying from the orbital station to the planet's surface.

"I imagine you say that to all your passengers," she teased.

The pilot, a sandy-haired young human with a no-nonsense haircut and all-nonsense attitude, grinned. "Only the ones I bring through in the cockpit - though usually for different reasons."

Embry wasn't sure what that meant, and almost asked, but decided to be content with not discussing her own reasons for being in the cockpit.

She'd caused… a disturbance.

Embry was so used to being just another person on the battlefield or in the temple. Maybe she was younger than most, maybe the people she was working with hadn't expected somebody so frail-looking, but they always accepted her without much comment or any fuss.

Not so on a shuttle bound for a planet near the outer edge of the Republic Core. To them, Jedi meant war. Or maybe that was what-

"I sort of like them," the pilot commented nonchalantly. "They make you look tough."

Embry froze, realizing she was tracing one of her scars, the one that started at her temple and split into three at her cheekbone. It was the longest one, and it connected with most of the others somewhere across her face. Her fingers always seemed to travel a different path when she traced it. The girl pulled her hand away quickly. It was a habit of hers that usually unsettled those around her.

"They didn't mean it," the man continued, like he hadn't noticed. "You get strange sorts up on the station. People passing through from all over. Some're just a bit jumpier than others. Shriek at stray mynocks. You know the type."

Embry watched the city ahead come slowly into focus. It wasn't big, the buildings weren't tall, but they were domed with blue stone outcroppings designed for climbing. It was a pretty little city.

"I didn't mean to frighten anyone," she said softly.

"Like leaping into a lake not wanting to splash," the man said. "No matter how you jump, you're going to get soaked. Always got people getting scared. Just looking for the excuse. Don't worry about it, kid."

Kid. Embry smiled. The man wasn't much older than her. Still, there was something refreshing about being talked to so easily. Jedi were always so formal, civilians and soldiers so respectful. More so, now that she was Barsen'thor.

"There we go," the man grinned, turning full around from his flying. "Not as tough-looking, but you clean up pretty nice with a smile. Far as I'm concerned, that's all you need."

Embry's smile turned slightly indulgent. "And what about a bit of knowledge to go with it?" she asked curiously.

The pilot snorted, looking back at his work. "No friend worth having cares what you know," he said. His hands went back to the controls and the ship dropped and turned to face the entrance to a hangar in the city below. "Knowledge ain't nothing but for using, far as I'm concerned. Somebody wants you for knowledge, means they want you for using. Gimme a girl with a can-do attitude and a real smile once in a while, that's a real friend, my thought."

Embry couldn't help but laugh as the shuttle landed. It was a very pleasant view of the galaxy, to boil friendships down to something so simple. Perhaps it explained why she got along better with Holiday and Qyzen than Tharan. Their friendships had started out more pure.

"You must have a great number of friends," she said brightly.

He shrugged. "Fair share. You'd better get going. Bet yours're waiting for you."

Embry turned to go, then turned back to look at the young man. "May I have your name?"

The man raised an eyebrow, then shrugged again. "Sora Hillker."

"Thank you for your help today, Sora Hillker." Embry gave a slight bow, then turned and left with a last, "goodbye."

It was a cheerful goodbye tinged with a little regret. Not many people spoke to Jedi like Sora Hillker did. It was a pleasant experience that Embry chose not to take for granted.

Her hood was up before she stepped out of the cockpit. Mr. Hillker might be happy talking with a scarred young Jedi, but most people flinched at the sight of the jagged cracks in Embry's face. Worse, many just shut down as soon as they realized what the simple brown robes marked her as.

Embry wasn't the sort of person to be ashamed of her features or nature, but she wouldn't deny that it hurt to be set apart from others. So, she kept her hood up and walked with the crowd off of the shuttle.

The hangar was white and pristine, with dock workers moving crates off the shuttle and into orderly rows by the doors. Groups of people stood just outside the doors, happily babbling and calling out to other passengers streaming past Embry. Machinery rumbled in the distance, hangar doors and utility vehicles and other shuttles roaring in distance, all adding to the general lively din.

There, in amongst the crowd, a Mirialan man with tattoos tracing down his forehead and splitting at his nose to reach his jaw bones. He held his arms out to make a path for a small Mirialan woman.

They had to be her parents. There weren't any other Mirialans in the crowd, at least not that Embry could see. Besides, the split in their tattoos matched perfectly, extending the exact same distance; they'd been married for almost thirty years. That was what Holiday said, at least.

The man spotted her in that moment. He raised a hand and called over the crowd, "Embry!"

It was them. Embry had found her mother and father again. She darted forward, ducking under arms on either side and skirting around sapients who were really much taller than was necessary, until suddenly she was right in front of them.

Her father wasn't tall. Embry actually came up to his nose. He looked distracted, too; his smile kept faltering as his eyes darted around to look at the crowd. Not fear, just anxiety. His name… his name was Athreon.

Her mother's name was Fabreé. She had the same auburn hair as Embry and stood so straight that she seemed almost taller than Athreon. Her eyes were a little friendlier than her stance, like some Masters Embry had met.

Now, what to do? She'd been introduced, sort of. Had she forgotten some sort of greeting? Should she just greet them like another Jedi? Maybe Qyzen or Holiday would know. Could she ask? Would that be rude?

"Oh," Embry said softly as Athreon leaned forward and pulled her into a hug. Once she got over her surprise, though, she leaned into it, hugging him back tightly. It was a comfortable feeling; she really felt like she was reuniting with him after too long away, instead of meeting the man for the first time she could recall.

He pulled back and they smile at each other before Embry turned to face Fabreé, expecting another hug.

Fabreé bowed. It wasn't deep, but it was formal, like a Knight might bow to a Padawan. It, too, caught Embry off guard, even though it shouldn't have. She bowed back, but she felt like she fumbled through it, unsure of how deeply she was supposed to bow to a parent or what the bow meant. Was it a traditional Mirialan practice? How much was she expected to know? She wished she'd listened to more of Holiday's explanations.

Then Fabreé smiled and Embry smiled back, though the Jedi's was wider. It wasn't quite as carefree a smile as she usually had, but at least she knew her mother was happy to see her.

"Welcome home, Jedi Embry." Fabreé led the three of them with the crowd, making their way out of the hangar and into an even more chaotic spaceport where it seemed like nobody was going the same direction as anybody else. Embry loved it.

Her mother didn't even gesture, just turned and kept walking with the three of them. Sometimes a passerby would come too close and she would reach out and redirect them or Embry's father would move try to push through and make space for the three of them. It wasn't very graceful or kindly of him, but Embry appreciated the effort.

When the crowd thinned, Embry was almost disappointed. She'd spent the entire time dancing past people, ducking under arms and trying to keep her robes from being stepped on, using Jedi intuition in a way that wasn't at all what she'd been taught. She popped out of the throng with a broad smile on her face, her parents - her parents! - not far behind.

They caught up with her where she waited and paused to catch their breath.

"Is this awkward?"

Embry and Fabreé looked at Athreon, who was clearly uncomfortable.

"I can never tell," he continued, "should we be talking?"

Embry laughed. Fabreé took Athreon's hand and smiled.

"No, Athreon," she said. "Everything is fine." She looked at Embry. "We're close to the exit now. The view of the city is lovely from the port."

That was all the invitation Embry needed. She led them to the doors, pushed them open, and barely blinked at the bright light.

The city was beautiful. Not at all tall, but everything was topped with beautiful blue stone and green plants dotted the streets. Actual streets, where people could walk and ride animals as the speeders darted overhead. Embry watched a speeder's shadow race across two roads, over a grassy field, then bulged wide and spread across a blue domed roof and disappeared. She could still see the speeder itself for a few seconds until it passed one of the few tall buildings in the area.

"This is the third time you've been here," Athreon said as he came up beside her. "Though it's unlikely you remember either time well."

Fabreé took to the other side of her. "We could show you around, if you like."

Athreon nodded. "We don't visit often, but I've got most of the spaceport area memorized."

"Yes," Embry said, picturing traveling a whole new city, talking with her long-lost parents the whole time, "I'd like that."

Who led whom for the next hours, Embry couldn't say. Athreon was true to his word, he'd memorized everything about the area and he explained it all at length. His anecdotes rambled and trailed off into tangents until he saw something new and started on a whole different topic. Whenever he wasn't sure what to say next, Fabreé would add something about the culture of the city, or Vechao, or even just one of the species who lived there, and explain how it mixed with all the facts Athreon had memorized. It was like they completed each other's stories. As they passed alleys and roads off the beaten path, however, Embry couldn't help but feel the temptation to dash off and explore on her own. She tried to convince her parents to explore with her, but Fabreé only politely declined.

It wasn't until Athreon finished his little tour and had lapsed into silence that Embry realized that she didn't have any idea what to talk about with her parents. It shouldn't have been hard, it never was before. With anybody else, she would have said whatever came to mind. Now, it seemed like nothing came to mind, or nothing that she thought she should talk about with her parents. All her experiences were as a Jedi. She didn't want to say anything they thought was strange.

It wasn't going to be this hard when she started acting as diplomat for the Rift Alliance, was it?

By the time they left the city, Embry was too distracted to even bid it farewell.

---

The next day found Embry meditating and admiring her family's flower garden. Relaxing, or trying to. She was still thinking about how to open up to her family.

Well, that was easy, she thought, matching up two leaves with the contours of decorative loops of wood on the house walls. All she had to do to open up to them was open up. It worked with everyone else, why not them?

But parents weren't like Qyzen or Master Yuon or Saeryana.

The tracery went all the way up the wall to the roof, white against blue, until Embry was staring right at the sun. She blinked and closed her eyes, letting the sun glow green through her eyelids.

Fabreé had suggested a room indoors for meditation. That wouldn't have worked, though. Not for Embry. She could have explained that, or explained why, but would that be alright?

Why hadn't it been this hard to make friends with the Jedi Masters?

There is no emotion, there is peace. There is no passion, there is serenity.

Those felt like they should apply here. They just didn't feel like they applied to Embry. Not that they ever did. That had nothing to do with her parents at all. She really wasn't a very good Jedi, she reflected. It was a wonder the Council had promoted her at all.

With a little effort, she pushed the thoughts away and began a game that worked better. She let the sun shine onto her face and tried to keep from squeezing her eyes shut, to let her face relax so her scars wouldn't scrunch up. The heat warmed her face, leaving cool lines beside each of her scars. In her mind, she traced each one, following the cool skin back and forth in a neverending patchwork, until she finally did reach the end and tilted her face another direction to start all over again. She got lost in the game, following the shadows back and forth with senses the Jedi didn't really teach about.

"Embry?"

Embry's eye's shot open and the sun blinded her as she tried to stand. She pitched forward face-first into the flowerbed, but she did manage to keep from crying out in surprise, so at least the dignity of the Barsen'thor wasn't entirely ruined.

She pushed herself up, but didn't quite make it past kneeling. The flowers were broken beneath her. Petals of all colours lay in the dirt and those plants without snapped stems were flattened.

"Embry!"

"I'm sorry," the girl said, and she wasn't sure if she was talking to her mother or the flowers.

She leaned forward and touched a particular flower. It was crushed, but still soft and still beautiful. A vibrant green, yellow, and white sprout, still clinging to life after her fall. Its stem was hard, sturdy, with fine transparent hairs along its length.

The others with it, coloured blue or pink or yellow, were in their own ways strong and hopeful and beautiful. Each one wanted life, wanted to grow and feel another day's sunlight. Embry had almost taken that from them.

The Force flowed easily, guided by the healer's will, making its way into each of the flowers and pulling them gently upwards, granting the energy they needed to pull vessel and cell and stem together again.

It was done in a second; the entire garden stood more vibrant than ever. Petals' colours were purer, flowers stood firmer, if not straighter, and, maybe it was a trick of imagination, but it seemed that those stronger flowers pulled aside just a little to let the sun shine down on the smaller ones.

Embry sat up straight and smiled, and finally turned to look at Fabreé.

"I'm sorry," she said, "I didn't mean to ignore you."

Fabreé nodded slightly, looking past Embry to the garden. "It's alright," she said softly. "This is beautiful. It means a lot to have a daughter who can create instead of destroy." She blinked, then refocused on Embry. "Are your meditations going well?"

Embry wasn't certain about what Fabreé had just said, but she nodded brightly and wiped some of the dirt from her face. "Yes, I think so. It's just…" She trailed off, gesturing vaguely.

"... It's been a very long time," Fabreé finished. One of her hands came halfway up, then faltered, stopped, and dropped her hand again.

It was hard to know whether to agree or to say something more. Fabreé was right. It had been a long time. Did that mean more to Embry, or to her parents? What did it feel like to have a child taken from you? Of course, the Jedi had had permission, but it still had to hurt. Should she say that? Should she ask?

Fabreé spoke first. "Your father and I are going to the city again. We will be back soon. You should stay here and attune yourself to the surroundings. Perhaps some time alone will clear your mind. The Jedi Code is well-suited to our home, I've made sure of it."

Embry hesitated. The only thing worse than struggling to figure out what to say to her parents was sitting alone thinking about how she couldn't think of anything to say to them. Before Embry could say anything, though, Fabreé turned and walked away.

Dismissed like a youngling before a master, Embry sat back down on the grass. In minutes, the family speeder took off with both her parents inside.

The young Jedi Master stood up.

Fabreé meant well. For most Jedi, leaving them to build up their mental defenses in solitude might even be a good idea. It sure seemed to be what a lot of Embry's fellow Jedi preferred she leave them to. Not for Embry, though.

The Azeel house stood in a field in the middle of a forest. Somewhere out there was that ravine she'd seen as a kid, the beautiful one covered in vines from top to bottom. It was through the forest in some direction, no farther than a four-year-old could wander off to.

Embry went to the house to get her hiking boots.

She needed the chance to really think. That meant it was time to get lost.

---

Azeel grinned, stepping off the shuttle.

"Vechao air space," she muttered with a smirk, then hitched her backpack and took off at a jog. The spaceport was crowded, but she had a way of clearing a path for herself. Usually it involved heavy armour and a rifle, but she could substitute shoulders and elbows when necessary.

"Outta the way," she said by way of warning, throwing her weight into a nikto she passed and causing a satisfying amount of chaos behind her. By the time she reached the port's entrance, she'd gotten three fights started and blocked enough return elbows she'd lost count.

Nothing dangerous, though. She'd have stepped in if anybody drew a gun.

That never happened on Vechao, though. It wasn't Nar Shadaa or even Coruscant.

Outside were rows upon rows of speeders, people waiting to pick up family and friends. Sentients, mostly humans, waited and milled about in small groups. It was easy to tell which ones were from out of the city, because they huddled just a bit closer together.

Azeel passed them by and walked on to the rental shop.

She tried being nice to the saleswoman. The handsome pilot had put her in a pretty good mood, so it went better than it might have. Even then, though, she probably bullied the poor woman to the verge of tears. The shopkeepers were definitely happy to see the back of her, and not in the usual sense.

The speeder tore into the air, leaving the ground and people behind and below. Blue and white stonework spread out below in wide, squat buildings as far as the eye could see.

The speeder engine purred, roared, and eventually complained as Azeel pushed it high, high into the air until the city limits came into view. She ignored the screaming of the air-starved engine and took a good, long look.

Her city had grown in the time she'd been gone. Not much, but the southeast suburbs were a few streets further, and the brown, torn ground of construction stood out past the blue fading into green, signs of the growing pains every city felt.

The shooting range was still standing, as run down as ever, a couple of kilometers east of the city center. It wasn't far from the GAR recruitment offices. If she looked closely, the soldier could see the blurry line, like a moss-covered crevice, of the division between the classes of the city, separating the poor from the middle class.

The northern area had her favourite spot, though. At least for today. A bridge across a small canyon. Nothing impressive for Vechao, maybe a hundred meters deep. On that bridge, lovingly, painstakingly, and carefully attached to its side, was a diving cord.

She knew, because she'd put it there herself, saved up for three months to buy the thing.

It had been well worth it.

Azeel turned the speeder east, pointed far past the edge of the city, and dove. The engine stopped screaming as the air started whistling. The city hurtled towards her.

She grinned.

One last fall before she had to see her family again.

---

Azeel spiraled down towards her parents' house. It was a tiny thing, with seven rooms if you counted the area where they ate as the dining room, even though it was only separated from the kitchen by a countertop. The guest room was probably in use for the first time ever. The family speeder was missing, so nobody was home, but that didn't matter.

She set down just on the edge of the clearing. No point landing close to the house. She didn't plan to go in if nobody was around. Instead, she hitched up her pack and walked into the forest.

She took a roundabout path. It was best to change it up every time to avoid leaving a trail, and she could afford to take the long path if Mother wasn't going to be looking for her in ten minutes.

About half an hour later she came to the crevasse, a grey and blue crack in the world that went on far into the trees and down for what felt like forever. Over to the right, an old tree grew nearly sideways, hanging tantalizingly close to jumping distance of the other side. To the left, the edges of the crevasse came within throwing distance of each other. The opposite side cut off in sharp edges where sheets of rock had fallen away, knocked loose by Azeel's better throws when she was younger.

With a grin, the soldier shucked her pack and pulled out her rappel line. In a textbook move she'd never let Aric or Elara see, she had it around a tree and her waist in seconds.

Her feet were planted against the lip of the crevasse when she heard a sound from below.

"wooOOAHH!"

A brown, green, and red blur shot up out of the depths below and soared past Azeel, came to the height of a parabolic arc, and started to fall again. She could just make out fluttering cloth when the form sort of shunted to the side and up a bit, then came to a rolling, tumbling, laughing halt in the grass near the bridge-tree.

Azeel climbed back up out of the crevasse and dropped the rope. The figure squirmed before poking her head out of dirt-brown robes and looking around.

The head that peaked out had bright auburn hair, but that wasn't the first thing Azeel noticed. The face was female, and petite, but those weren't the first things Azeel noticed, either. There were other details, like the ɣ-shaped tattoos under blue-grey eyes and the smile that somehow seemed brighter than the sun on tree leaves. Azeel didn't notice any of that first.

The first thing Azeel noticed were the scars.

Without even thinking, she pulled a cloth from her pocket and started wiping away all the dirt caught in the little girl's scars.

"Um," said the girl when the cloth touched her face. Then, when Azeel didn't stop, she held still and let the soldier keep scrubbing.

It took a minute before Azeel gave it up as a bad job. The cracks were too many and too deep to get clean without water and soap, and besides, her hands were shaking too much to do more.

She took a deep breath and let it out through her nose, almost a snort, before reaching forward to try again.

Two delicate little hands came up and caught her short. Two bright, searching eyes met hers.

"It's alright." The voice sounded so much older than the girl looked, even without the maternal kindness in it. "Thank you. It means a lot that you care, miss…?"

"Captain," Azeel said automatically, but the rest of what she should have said was derailed and what came out of her mouth was, "they were supposed to heal you."

"They…?"

Azeel almost ignored her. It would be so easy to just be angry or ashamed or frustrated and let the rest be unimportant. There wasn't a chance of ignoring her, though. Not her.

"When they took you away, mother said the Jedi would heal you," Azeel murmured, bringing her other hand up to envelop the girl's smaller ones. "It's the only reason I let them take you. I thought…"

Her hands were so small. How had she grown up even smaller than Mother? Didn't they feed people at the Jedi temples?

A flash of recognition lit the girl's eyes.

"M're?"

Azeel flinched. "Just… Captain is fine, Embry. Or Sister, or Azeel."

She braced herself for the barrage of questions, but Embry just nodded. Nothing like she used to be, not back when she'd ask questions or run off to answer them herself, no matter what anyone said.

"You look so different."

With a grin, Azeel pulled two silver dreadlocks in front of her eyes. "Looks great, right? Silver hair dye and contact lenses for the red eyes. No point in make-up going into a warzone, but that doesn't mean I can't be memorable." She flicked the hair away and gestured to Embry's clothes. "Do the Jedi have their own dress code or something?"

Embry laughed. That, at least, hadn't changed at all. Her eyes lit up and nearly closed as her cheeks rose, and the sound was so carefree it was like the sun shone a little brighter.

"No," Embry giggled, "not officially. It's just that the masters like their traditions and they're the only clothes available on Tython. I suppose everyone wearing brown and beige means nobody ever feels self-conscious about what they wear." Embry's continued grin made sure Azeel didn't worry at the comment. "I think it helps people who need to find us, too, so I'm happy to wear them."

Her face fell and she picked at her robe and grumbled, "they get caught on every single branch, though."

Azeel laughed. That sounded exactly like the Embry she remembered.

Her laughter caught in her throat when Embry looked back up and the light caught the girl's scars again.

"M- sister, what's wrong?"

"Nothing's wrong," Azeel snapped defensively. "Why would you think that?"

Embry's expression turned troubled, emphasized by those scars. "I didn't mean to pry," said the Jedi, "the Force grants a certain amount of empathy. It-"

"Of course it does." Azeel pulled away. "Because the Force can do anything."

Anything, apparently, except heal her sister. Anything except exactly what Mother always said it would do. Anything to make Fabreé admire it and gladly give away-

Azeel stormed off without another word to her long-lost sister.

There wasn't anything to say. Not anything that should be said to a little girl home from the war to see her family. A few words for dear old Mother, maybe.

---

Embry sat, stunned, on the ravine's edge, feeling her sister's presence slowly fade into the distance.

"There is no emotion, there is peace." As usual, the words rang hollow. "There is no emotion, there is peace. There is no emotion, there is peace."

As usual, the nonsensical words did nothing. Why had M're left? What had the waves of frustration and hurt coming off her meant?

She could stand and wonder or she could put herself to work.

Jedi Code forgotten, the girl walked over to her sister's climbing rope. She took hold of the rope, walked to the ravine's edge, and let herself step over. Her hands clenched tight on the tether, already aching by the time she stood on the vertical surface. She wasn't made for this. Her hands were too weak to hold her easily, and she already had to soothe the strain with the Force.

She could let herself fall. It would be good practice for that technique she was working on. Not that it was a good technique yet. Moving things with the Force was hard. How anybody controlled it, especially the way her friends Dia or Ana could, she had no idea. Once, when a Padawan had asked her to help him move a boulder as tall as she was, Embry had accidentally launched the rock so high into the sky that it took twenty seconds to come back down.

Thoughts like that were the reason she forced herself to go down the ravine hand over hand. It hurt a bit, but that was fine. She needed the time it gave her time to think.

On the way down, she tried to figure out if she'd said something wrong.

Silly question. Of course she had. It was just, what had M're, her sister, meant about the Force being able to do anything?

Embry's feet tapped to the ravine floor close to where she'd launched herself into the air before. It was dark, so far down. Up above, there was a beautiful, jagged crack of light and blue sky, then rough stone all the way to the ground.

Maybe M're didn't understand the Force very well. She'd said something about Embry's scars. Did they have something to do with why she'd run off?

The ground was soft enough to tempt Embry with the idea of taking off her shoes. Soft moss, well-watered and thick, covered the ground as far as she could see. It hadn't been there when she'd first gotten there. She'd added it when she first reached the ravine.

Embry knelt into the moss and made a beckoning motion with her hand. Flowers, red and blue and happy to be alive, grew out of the moss and into full bloom in seconds. They wanted more, though. They wouldn't last this way, not without more attention from Embry. There needed to be a way to fix it up properly.

There were always consequences to the changes Embry made, even if she couldn't understand what they would be. She'd never learned how life fit together, not in any way except what the Force told her. All she had to go on was her own intuition and the whispers of the Force within the flowers. They knew what they needed and they could guide her, tell her how far she could push. Too far and she'd cause more damage than she mended. Too little and it would be as if she'd never come.

The universe was connected like that.

It was the same with people, except that there wasn't anybody to tell her if she was doing things properly. Often, all she could do was hope that she'd left the people she'd met happier than they'd been when she arrived.

How would she do that with her family? There had to be something, especially since it was Embry herself causing the problems.

The Jedi let the Force flow into the ground and plants and life around her. It flowed as it willed, guiding her will as her will guided it. Where it was needed, she let it take root in the life of the ravine. It was a powerful sort of teamwork. The Force on its own was guided by life; it knew how to move to create life, to save life, but it couldn't do the work alone. Embry made herself the conduit it needed.

Life in the ravine flourished from end to end, from ridge to ridge. The area brightened from grey to green, with spots of red spines, blue stone, and white lichen.

It was beautiful.

Embry walked a little ways across the ravine floor until she found a deceptive nook in the wall, now even harder to spot than when she'd first found it, what with all the plant life.

On hands and knees, it was a lot easier to see what was so special about the spot. The depression on the wall actually had a hole in the bottom half. A hole and then, an arm's length, in, much more.

On her stomach, it was a neat fit for the young Jedi to get through the hole. Her robes didn't snag, but they hugged a lot tighter than they were designed to. There was probably more space before she'd grown the moss in, but it would have been an uncomfortable squeeze either way. It just depended on whether the ground was rocky or the fit was tight.

Two choices, both with their problems, but she had to go through with one of them. Maybe that applied to her situation with her family somehow. Nothing was sticking in her mind, but Embry kept thinking as she crawled.

It felt like a lot further than it had looked at first. That probably had a lot to do with the tight fit. Even so, it only took seconds to get to the other side and a spot where, worst case scenario, she could turn around.

Well, worst case scenario was that she demolished the whole ravine getting herself out, but she'd managed to avoid that. Now she just needed a light. That hadn't been a part of Embry's packing priorities, but she did have a substitute, of sorts.

There was probably a more efficient way to go about it, and there were definitely Jedi who would know for sure, but Embry had a trick in emergencies, even ones she put herself in. She clasped her hands together and pulled in as much Force power as she could, cycling it through her over and over again and pulling in more all the while. In seconds, she had enough, and she let it flow out of her ever so slowly.

A soft golden glow filled a cavern about twenty paces deep and fifteen wide, tall enough for her to brush her fingertips on the roof. All exactly what she'd been hoping for. The rest was more unexpected.

There were two wooden stools, a tiny little table with a lantern and box on it, and on the walls were flimsiplast sheets covered with scribbles and doodles.

This was somebody else's hideout already.

Embry darted to the table and turned on the lantern so she could give the Force a rest. With a flick of a switch, the lantern came on and Embry let the Force leave her with a fond farewell.

This must be M're's hideout. Nobody else lived close enough to walk here.

The pictures on the wall were old, all a little faded with years of damp, and they looked like children's drawings. There was one that was probably a forest, if the one purple-leaved tree and its orange stick companions were any hint. Another was a building that looked to Embry like it had started as a statue at the bottom and grown to house every type of architecture she'd ever seen in her life and more as it went up. The most recognizable one she found had half a dozen blobs with what must be faces at the tops.

She didn't remember any real details about M're. All she had was a vague sense that M're took care of her and two memories with her in them. These pictures, maybe they could tell Embry more, if she could figure out what they meant.

Embry's hand came up and traced the scar from her temple across her nose and then straight down to her lips, then came back to trace a different route while she thought. Eventually, the Jedi sat down on one of the stools and let herself relax. She reached deep into the Force and started to pour it into her surroundings.

---

Embry returned to the house to the sound of something she'd never heard at home and rarely at the temple.

Shouting, loud enough to be heard from the edge of the clearing.

"...orry you were inconvenienced because you forgot about me!"

She dashed into the house to see something wholly unexpected.

"You continue to ignore the value of our time. A single call would have resolved this issue."

M're was arguing with Mother. Yelling at her, even. It was a little scary, and yet Father sat at the table, calmly preparing a pot of caf.

"YOU KNEW EXACTLY WHEN I WAS GETTING HERE! IF YOU'D CARED AT ALL-"

"What's going on?" Embry's voice had more iron in it than she'd intended.

Both M're and Fabreé stopped and looked at Embry. Embarrassed, maybe?

"It's nothing," M're said.

Fabreé forced a smile. "We had a misunderstanding. Nothing to worry about, Embry."

That gave Embry pause. She wasn't used to being lied to, especially so bluntly.

Her hesitation let M're turn around and leave the room. Escaping again.

That left Embry in the room with both of her parents.

Athreon sat at the table quietly. He glanced at Fabreé, as if for permission, then proffered one of the three cups he'd filled to Embry.

A fourth cup sat on the counter, empty, waiting to be filled.

"Sit down with us," Fabreé prompted, leading by taking a seat at the table by her husband.

Embry sat down, but it felt much like sitting with the Jedi Council. In theory, she was free to do as she liked. In practice, there was a will, no matter how benevolent, that commanded proceedings.

That made sense. It was how mothers were: kind, but authoritative. Grandmaster Satele was the same. Though, Embry supposed, the Grandmaster had obviously never had any children of her own.

"Mother." Embry paused to savour the scent of caf. "Iit seems unusual, to be in conflict with… sister… so soon after her arrival."

Embry didn't know why M're didn't like her name, but it didn't matter. She'd been asked not to use it, so she wouldn't.

Fabreé's face soured. "Not unusual or unexpected. After all, what else would a soldier do?"

That was unfair. Embry had met many soldiers around the galaxy, good men and women of many species and on both sides of the war. She opened her mouth to say as much.

"How has your training been, Embry?" Fabreé cut her off. "We wanted to give you some time to adjust, but we've been curious."

"I hear Jedi training can be very difficult," Athreon added. "I'm surprised they let you visit us in the middle of it."

His tone said he was also very happy about it.

"Yes," Fabreé agreed, looking thoughtful. "I've never heard of a child returning from the Jedi except… Well, I can't imagine you've failed. Is there some Jedi business on Vechao that you volunteered for?"

"No," Athreon said, eyes sparking, alive with curiosity. "She would have brought her master. If the rarity of visits home for other Jedi is so consistent, it must be official policy… You're a Jedi Master, aren't you, Firefly?"

Firefly? The name sounded just a little familiar. Maybe a childhood nickname. Well, Embry didn't mind. "Yes," she said, smiling at her father's cleverness. "Very recently. I was given some time to myself, and I wanted to see you again."

Athreon, satisfied, sat back in his chair with a smile.

"Is that proper?" Fabreé asked, concerned. "Will it interfere with your training or your role in the Order?"

"I don't believe so," Embry said. "Jedi Masters are given quite a bit of freedom, and I'm generally very well-behaved."

Well, Embry thought so, at least. There just happened to be some older Jedi who just seemed to hate fun.

Fabreé relaxed with a smile, sitting back in much the same way her husband did. "Then I would like to hear about your training. Though, I suppose it's over, now that you're a Jedi Master."

Embry sipped at her caf, savouring the powerful bitterness and rich scent. "Yes," she said between sips, "and no. Officially, the Jedi have no more to teach me, but they just like to say that. Every Jedi Master knows something different, and usually if you bug them enough they'll tell you something interesting or send you off to find some holocron you can talk to for hours." She grinned. "There's the Noetikons, for example. It has so many ancient Jedi to talk to, it's impossible to get bored. You can even learn from the Force or just from meeting people."

Her smile froze for a second as she thought back to a recent meeting with a Sith Lord, a twi'lek woman with an unimaginable companion that seemed to eat the Force itself. She'd spent days afterwards conversing with holocrons in the Jedi Temple about what the creature had been and how it did what it did.

Always more to learn.

Fabreé smiled. "You remember your childhood lessons, then."

Embry started and thought back, this time using her drinking to hide how long it was taking her to figure out what her mother was talking about.

Well, she couldn't lie, but it wasn't hard to figure out what Fabreé meant. Now that she recalled, it was one of the things the old Masters used to tell her she would say when she first came to the Jedi Order.

There's always more to learn, if you keep looking.

Though, Fabreé probably hadn't meant that Embry was supposed to get lost as often as she did. Not that she'd disapprove, necessarily, but most people were surprised about it. Jedi were apparently expected to be pretty good with directions.

Mystery solved, Embry shared a smile with Athreon and nodded to Fabreé.

"It seems so," was all she said.

---

"There is no emotion, there is peace. There is no emotion, there is peace. There is no emotion, there is peace."

Embry took another breath to continue the mind-numbing chant, but stopped when she heard somebody coming. Not M're or Fabreé, obviously. Those two were yelling at each other again, for the third day straight.

Athreon crossed the field from the house slowly, without rushing. When he got close enough, Embry turned around. He looked so calm, as if he dealt with these sorts of disturbances all the time.

The first thing he said was, "that sounded unusual." It didn't sound like he was talking about M're and Fabreé, but he changed subject before she could ask. "Are you doing alright, Firefly?"

She listened to the distant sound of yelling for a few seconds before frowning and shaking her head. "There is more conflict here than I expected. I thought letting sister and Fabreé work through it themselves was the solution, but I am beginning to doubt."

Athreon gave a smile that didn't actually have any joy in it. "No," he said, sitting down beside her in the grass. She moved to make some space against her tree. "I doubt it will end so easily. They make a sport of this sort of thing."

"I should go talk to them about it," Embry said firmly, looking at the little house.

"No!"

Embry turned to look at her father, surprised.

"I mean…" he trailed off, uncertain after his outburst. "It is only a little more than usual. They should reach a conclusion in another couple of days and things will be relatively peaceful afterwards."

The Jedi stared to him skeptically. "Relatively peaceful?"

Athreon nodded.

It seemed like so little to hope for. In fact, it seemed like the wrong thing to hope for. The house was all but a war zone as it was, but here Athreon was, insisting that it was normal. Then again, who was Embry to judge? She'd been home four days, and hadn't done much to learn about her parents before M're came home. She hadn't learned much about M're, either.

Who was she to say what her family should do?

"I just wish they wouldn't fight."

Athreon nodded in that way that made Embry think he needed both a beard and a cup of caf, just to be sure he looked fittingly old and wise for how thoughtful he was. She let him think.

When he spoke, it was slowly, uncertainly. "Then you can help me with an experiment, if you like. We could try to keep them apart, to keep them from fighting."

"How?"

"It would be simple, with two of us. Each would only have to keep one or the other of them from being in the house at any time."

"And this would work?"

Athreon shook his head. "It is only an experiment. I have never had somebody to attempt it with, but… would you help me?"

He gave Embry a hopeful look that made her agree before she'd even realized what she was saying. Then, though, "I don't know if sister will accept my company. She seems to avoid me."

Her father frowned. Puzzled, it seemed. At least there was a chance he didn't know any better than she did what was wrong in that case. It was hard to tell whether that was a good thing or a bad thing.

Then he smiled hopefully. "That is alright. Fabreé would be thrilled to know more about the Jedi and their practices. I'm sure teaching her would be enough to distract her."

That was it, then. "Do you have anything else that might help?"

Athreon rose to his feet and smiled down at her. "Anything you can tell her about the life of a Jedi or their history should work."

With that, without even saying goodbye, he wandered off back towards the house. He'd only made it a few steps before he stopped, turned back, and said, "I don't think 'no emotions' works for you, Firefly. You should probably go back to the original version."

Without explaining anything about what he'd said, he left, leaving Embry to come up with some sort of scheme to socialize with her mother, something she hadn't been much successful at yet

---

A few days passed without much event, as far as Azeel was concerned. She got into a few fights with mother and never really got the chance to talk with Embry, but that was to be expected.

Most days, Azeel spent out of the house. Just like she had today.

The air was fresh and cool and a little biting with the speed Azeel was going. That was good. It helped clear her head of the alcohol. Not that she needed it. It was almost an hour's trip home, more than enough time to get her head on straight.

Haryl, Shen, and Talor had been exactly the same as always. Good, brain-dead fun. It just... hadn't been fun. So she'd bailed, drunker than anyone else there, with jokes about saving the galaxy trailing in her wake.

Take-off had been a hassle. Probably should have waited longer on that. Still, wasn't like it was possible to have an accident on the way back home. Empty skies the whole way.

The city had been out of sight for ages. She was almost back at the place.

If only she could figure out why she was heading back to the place she'd just abandoned.

Home was always a miserable place. She knew that and ignored it every time she came back.

It was hard to ignore. That was why she'd visited so rarely in the years since joining the military. If it weren't for her father…

And now Embry was back, of her own free will, when they'd never expected to see her again.

Embry hadn't changed a bit. Still as exuberant and carefree as ever. A four-year-old trapped in an eighteen-year-old's body. It must have been easy, living with the Jedi. That was alright, though. Embry had earned that much.

Azeel circled the house a couple of times, dipping and spiraling a couple of times to make sure she was fit to land. Then she came down with a quiet thrum of engines.

Her father sat on the porch watching her land. He nodded to her as she stepped out of the vehicle. She crossed her arms and leaned against the speeder with a smile.

"Guess," she said.

Father took his time. He watched her, sipped his drink, tilted his head, opened his mouth, then closed it again and went back to thinking.

Azeel rolled her eyes.

"Drinking," he said, drawing out the word, "with friends from just before you left here. I forget their names."

"Heh." The soldier kicked off her speeder and walked to the porch, taking a seat beside her father on the steps. "Lucky guess."

Father hummed and offered her his cup. The smell of caf was tempting, so she took it and took a sip before handing it back.

Seriously bitter, but fine in small doses. It was a shame Azeel needed something like a liter of the stuff for it to do anything to her. She handed it back.

They sat there for a while. Eventually, the sun started to set through the trees.

It would have been a good view from the speeder, and she would have offered to take them up, but Father would have refused. He wasn't big on noise or moving fast. It was a kindness that he tolerated Azeel at the best of times.

That was life as the soldier of the family.

"Hey, father."

The old man shifted his weight, looking at Azeel out of the corner of his eyes.

"How'd you know which friends I was out with?"

He smiled, but it looked a little sad. "You've always moved on quickly, Azeel. They were the only friends you ever really drank with, and maybe you've outgrown that, too."

Azeel's eyes narrowed skeptically. "You didn't figure that out yourself," she accused.

Father shrugged. "Just a guess," he tried.

"Based on one of Mother's psych evals," she said.

Mother liked those. She thought she had them all figured out, every motive back to front, like open files. Maybe she did.

"She is much better at it than I am," Father said. "People-"

"-have too many rules," Azeel finished. Father looked up and she made sure to smile for him. "I know, Father."

He smiled.

Say what you wanted about the Azeel parents, they worked well together. Both usually pretty quiet, both happy to garden and work on their jobs in peace. One with his rules and forward-thinking, the other with ambition and the sort of determination usually seen only on a battlefield.

"Do you want to hear a story about Fabreé?"

Azeel started, then realized what was going on. She sighed. "No, Father. I understand plenty. We're just different people. It's not a matter of information anymore."

Father went quiet and sipped at his caf.

It wasn't his fault he didn't know what to do. Father had this idea that two people who knew exactly the same things would act exactly the same way. Azeel didn't agree, but both she and Fabreé humoured him. Usually. Today just wasn't one of those days.

He sat there, looking lost and uncertain.

"Father." He perked up slightly at her tone. "I have a question."

He almost smiled. That was better. Now she just had to think of a question.

"I have…" she said slowly, searching, "these two teammates. Rules-y sorts. Not big on people."

There went the eyebrow, quirked just so. She borrowed that quirk when she needed to give people her perfect smirk, but for him it was just about anticipating a question.

"So I'm wondering, how do you get somebody like that to open up outside of work? You're allowed to use anything in the Republic rulebook, just remember that spec ops tend to be top secret."

There. Now he was really smiling.

Father put down his coffee and turned to face Azeel.

---

"Now , reach out in your mind. Find a thing you feel a connection to. You can bring it into your mind or take your mind to it, whichever feels best." For Embry, it had always been to leave the protection of her own place in the universe and join with others. It felt more right not to force other things to leave their homes.

Fabreé was silent, listening to Embry's instructions and focusing on her meditation. Her face was peaceful and calm in the way of all mirialan spiritualists.

Embry let herself fall into meditation. It wasn't the way she tended to like, kneeling in the grass, but the sound of rain was relaxing and her mother was peaceful company.

In the strictest sense, what Embry was doing couldn't be called meditating. That would have involved a lot more tranquility of mind than she had at the moment.

A half hour passed in silence, except for the rain through the trees. Fabreé meditated and Embry concentrated, until eventually Fabreé said, "I don't believe I've understood this properly."

"Oh?" Embry asked. "What's wrong?"

"I'm not certain," Fabreé said softly. "I am having trouble bringing my mind to anything. I've tried focusing on several things, but nothing has worked."

She must have made quite a few attempts if the half hour they'd sat in silence had been devoted to it.

"Is it fleshing out the idea or placing yourself within it?" Embry asked, surprising herself by knowing what might be wrong. This was going a lot better than trying to teach a healing technique would have.

Fabreé considered. "I can't seem to place my mind in the scene. I don't understand why not."

"Have you tried the other way around?"

"The other way-?" Fabreé blushed. "Oh. Yes. I suppose I forgot."

Embry nodded. "It happens when learning a new technique. Why don't you try pulling the scene into your mind, surrounding it with your thoughts and identity? That should make it easier, if taking your mind to it isn't working."

It was a common problem. In fact, Embry's learning experience had been precisely the opposite, where her instructor forgot to mention the notion of letting one's own identity wander, rather than take control. Luckily, Embry's mind had a habit of wandering even without permission.

Fabreé took very little time to get the idea this time. Embry felt the subtle disturbance in the Force as her mother's power, as limited as it was, ensnared the world around them.

Naturally, it went no further than Embry's barrier. Well, not exactly naturally. It was easy to keep the rain out, but putting up a barrier that blocked the Force in any way was a much more intensive and complex task.

So complex, in fact, that Embry was barely surprised when the barrier collapsed, soaking the two mirialan women in a sheet of rainwater.

Fabreé gasped and Embry stifled a laugh.

"Sorry, Fabreé," she said into her hands. She threw the barrier back up, but the damage had been done. Both women were drenched and sitting in puddles. "My concentration lapsed."

Fabreé looked up at the barrier, which was again holding off the rain. "I understand," she said. "It must be a very difficult technique."

Embry hummed noncommittally. Fabreé didn't need to know that her daughter hadn't ever really had a lesson in barriers.

She could still remember Master Pirra scolding her over experimenting with "making bubbles" instead of paying attention to the lessons on barrier creation. Embry hadn't been able to help it. Unlike meditation, barriers came so easily to her, like starting a conversation. Barriers were about protecting things, keeping them safe from anything that might want to hurt them.

It meant she was utterly terrible at teaching people about them, though. Barriers and healing. Apparently her explanations never made any sense.

Empathic meditation, though? All she had to do was say what her Masters would say.

"We will practice for a while longer and, when you're ready, we will work towards doing the same thing with a person."

Fabreé nodded and closed her eyes again, and Embry spared her just a little Force to keep her warm. There was more to it than that, but the end result was that Fabreé shouldn't be too cold despite being wet from the rain.

Embry smiled and checked if she could make the Force barrier a little more stable, like her usual one.

The two of them spent the afternoon like that, and Embry's new Force barrier only failed twice more. It was a very productive day.

---

"I never asked for perfection, only that you give it the consideration it deserved."

"Yeah? Could've fooled me. 'M're, have you done your exercises today?' 'M're, focus on clearing your mind.' 'M're, a mirialan contemplates before action.' I never asked to be taught that stuff!"

"No, you'd rather learn how to kill people."

Embry stood quietly from the table, took Athreon's hand, and walked from the room. Neither Fabreé or M're noticed.

When they'd gone far enough from the house that M're's steadily rising voice was mostly silenced by distance, Embry turned to Athreon.

"This isn't working," she said. "I don't understand. I've never seen two people fight so much."

Athreon nodded sadly. "They didn't start fighting until years after you left. It doesn't seem to be happening any less, even with us keeping them apart most of the time."

"I don't like keeping them apart. It feels dishonest, and I can't be with both of them together this way." Embry started pacing back and forth between the trees, head bowed and hands folded. "I don't understand what they're fighting over. One day it's M're being a soldier, the next it's the friends she grew up with, and later it's nothing but who should have called the other to make sure when dinner was."

Embry closed her eyes, breathed deep, and whispered, "there is no emotion; there is peace." She stopped and looked at Athreon imploringly. "It's like they want to fight."

Athreon looked distracted. "I believe the original mantra is more fitting," he said softly.

"Athreon," Embry said sternly.

The man ducked his head. "Sorry. I…" he trailed off.

A small pair of hands took his, gently holding them steady. "You know, don't you? Father…" Embry looked up imploringly into his grey eyes, hoping he would understand how important this was.

Athreon's face crumpled. "You're not making this any easier," he said, voice cracking.

"I need to know." This wasn't like with healing. She couldn't just let the Force do its work. To even have a chance of fixing things, she needed to know what to fix.

Athreon whispered something so quiet she couldn't hear. Then, when Embry pushed him to say it again, he said, "you. They're fighting over you."

"No." Embry stepped back, horrified. "That doesn't make any sense. I haven't been here for years." But Athreon wouldn't lie.

Athreon raised his hands helplessly. "It's all I can figure out. The subject is never more than two degrees of separation off of you. The Jedi, meditation techniques, the accident when you were children…"

"So when I first saw M're again, when she wouldn't stop looking at my scars..."

It was connected. M're had taken a look at Embry's scars, said something about the Force, and disappeared.

Athreon nodded as Embry trailed off. "Your sister missed you. We all did."

"I destroyed our family," Embry whispered. When Athreon said nothing, seemingly lost for words, she concluded, "I should never have come back."

She nodded solemnly and promised, "I will leave in the morning, after saying goodbye. I'm sorry I caused you all and pain."

Then she walked away into the forest, leaving Athreon standing in the Azeel family yard, speechless.

Azeel sat down on the porch with a rush of breath.

What a day. Talk with Father before breakfast, out into the forest to get some target practice and avoid Embry, get "lost" in said forest, take the speeder for a ride…

Honestly, she'd been so bored it was almost a relief to get in a good fight with Mother.

She looked around for a moment and spotted a figure in the yard, near the trees.

"Father," she called. When he didn't reply, she repeated, "Father?"

She pushed herself up and strode over to him. He'd definitely heard her. Maybe he was lost in thought, staring into the trees like that.

"So whatcha think…" she trailed off when she drew up to her father. He looked horrified. "Father! What happened?"

She only had a sidearm beside her bed, no armour on this trip. If there were Kath hounds on the loose, she'd be able to scare them off, at best.

"Embry," Father whispered, "she's leaving."

Aw, damn it, him too?

Azeel sighed and rolled her eyes. "Yeah, Father, that's how it works. We'll both be heading back out soon. War's finally revving up and we've got to be out there."

"No." Father shook his head and turned to face her. "She isn't coming back."

Azeel raised an eyebrow. "You think she's going to die?" She chuckled. "You haven't heard half the-"

"She's not coming back!"

Azeel's jaw clicked shut. Had father just yelled? At her?

"I told her all the fighting between you and Fabreé was because of her, and she thought that meant it was her fault."

It took a second for that to sink in.

"Well," Azeel managed, "damn. Think you could've worded that better, Father. Wait, what do you mean we're fighting over Embry? That makes no sense. She never comes up when we argue."

Father gave her a long, steady, "are you kidding me?" look.

Azeel scowled and changed the subject. "You choked, didn't you? You rushed a guess... Alright. I bet she ran off to meditate or something. That whole peace and emotion thing Mother loves so much."

She looked into the forest and pointed. "She went that way, didn't she?"

Father nodded.

"Right." Azeel turned and headed towards the house. "I'll go get her."

Two minutes later, she passed Father again. He was still standing still at the edge of the forest. She hefted her climbing gear, even though he must have seen them. With her best grin, she called back from the first trees, "don't worry, Father. I could do this in my sleep. Maybe I will!"

And with that, she set off at a jog for the ravine.

Embry felt her sister before she saw or even heard her. It was easy, now that she'd had a few days to get used to that old, comfortable feeling M're gave off, the one Embry hadn't even realized she remembered from childhood.

She waited patiently for M're to descend the ravine's wall, walk to the hideout's entrance, and crawl through.

When M're made it inside, she stood slowly, staring around.

"Damn," she said in awe. "Bioluminescence. You do that yourself?"

Embry smiled into the soft blue glow. She didn't know what that word meant, but, "if you mean the mossglow, then yes, sort of. I just encouraged the right life to grow here. It's been doing the rest, as it always does."

M're jabbed a finger behind her. "And all the flowers and everything out front? And the stuff that made the entrance such a tight fit? That you, too?"

Only then did Embry notice the stains on M're's chest and legs. They must have come from dragging herself across the moss in the entrance.

M're sighed. "Look, I didn't mean it like that. I just want to talk."

"Alright."

M're stared until Embry had to smile. "What?" the elder sister asked. "You're not going to ask why?"

Embry shrugged. "It doesn't matter, does it? As long as you want to talk, I am willing to listen."

M're sat down on the floor with her, and Embry gave the moss under her just a little extra energy. No reason to be uncomfortable while they talked, after all.

"You have changed, then," M're said. "I remember back when you wouldn't stay still to listen to anyone."

"The Jedi eventually managed to teach me that some people can be just as interesting as exploring is."

M're laughed, and the sound put Embry at ease, though she hadn't realized she'd been nervous. "Eventually, huh?" the elder sister smirked. "I bet you drove them crazy until then."

"Oh, I still do, on occasion," Embry said. She almost tried to suppress a smile. There'd been a few masters back then who'd sworn up and down that it wasn't worth it to train 'Youngling Azeel', no matter how powerful she was. Some of the Council shared a similar opinion about her appointment as Jedi Master.

M're laughed again. For a moment, it felt like what a family should be.

Then M're's face went serious and she said, "Father says you're planning on leaving."

Embry's smile died. She lost her nerve and looked away from M're's ruby-red eyes, black in the mossglow. Her gaze wandered to the pictures on the walls, especially the one of the temple at Coruscant.

There was a lot to explain and she wasn't sure how to go about it.

"When I first decided to visit my family again, it was because I thought it would make us happy. If you were missing something because I'd left, I could fix it by coming back. Then we'd be like my friends from the Temple or the ones who've been traveling with me. We could be a- a team, I thought."

M're muttered something about, "team like that," that Embry didn't quite hear.

"Sorry?"

M're rolled her eyes and said, "no family is actually like that, Embry."

"Oh." What else was there to say? All Embry had ever seen of family was a couple of broken families on Tatooine and the Organa family on Alderaan. It always seemed like they cared about each other more than anything, even when they didn't realize it.

It was still possible that was the case with the Azeel family.

M're sat forward in her chair, hands clasped in front of her mouth. She dropped them with a sigh, saying, "look. Mother and I fight. She's stifling and I'm a soldier and we're both as stubborn as they come. I'm sorry we scared you. There's not much I can do to fix it, but there is something you should know: it's not your fault and Father's an idiot."

Embry stared at her sister, unsure of what to say.

M're took a deep breath and continued, "what Father can tell about people couldn't fill a single screen's worth of one of those textbooks he helps publish. Me and Mother fight whenever we get the chance. Hells, I think she pens up all the things that aggravate her while I'm away, just so we can get a few decent fights in right off the start. So if he said we were fighting because of you, it's because you panicked him and he took a guess at something he's clueless about."

"Besides," she added, "he's as prone to confirmation bias as anyone."

"Confirmation… bias?" Embry gave M're a look that she hoped conveyed exactly how foreign those words sounded to her, at least when put together. "Sister, the first argument I saw between you and Fabreé happened right after we first parted ways."

M're grimaced. "Yeah, that's just because that's the first time you saw us together after you got here. And, about some of the other stuff…"

The soldier stood from her stool and walked up to one of the pictures on the wall. It wasn't very recognizable, but it was probably a building. Or maybe it was a forest.

"Do you recognize these?"

Embry shook her head. "No. Should I?"

M're snorted. "Nah. I guess not. I just figured if you remembered this place, you'd remember your little art projects."

Her art projects? These pictures were hers, then? Then they'd been here for fourteen years. Why keep them, then?

"No," Embry shook her head again, this time standing to look more closely at the picture, then gesture at the room as a whole. "I remembered the ravine, but that's… I only have three memories of Vechao. I was very young back then."

"You're very young now," M're pointed out. "And it's a crevasse. Ravines are less like cracks. What do they teach you at that temple?"

Embry smiled indulgently. "Sister. For once, I think it isn't me being sidetracked."

M're waved a hand dismissively. "Better than my briefings," she said. "At least I'm telling you something. Anyway, these are yours. You painted them and we brought them here. I kept them up after you left."

Embry reached out to touch the flimsiplast picture. "But… why keep them?"

"It was all I had." M're shrugged and kept her eyes firmly on the picture. "I missed you, Embry. Mother letting you go was probably the start of all our fights. That doesn't make it your fault they happen, though. It doesn't make a lot of difference whether you're here or not, as far as those go. Mother and I, we're gonna argue until I get myself killed or I do something so heroic even she needs to acknowledge it."

Embry took M're's hand. "You're still a hero to me," she said softly.

M're frowned. "Embry, you just admitted you don't remember anything about me. Besides, it's my fault…" She trailed off and, with her other hand, she gestured to Embry's face.

Embry's free hand also came up to her face. Her fingers came up to trace the scar from her temple. "I have two memories of you," she said. "Once, going to the city, you made sure I didn't fall out of the speeder. The other time was when I got these scars."

M're shifted uncomfortably and tried to pull away, but Embry clasped her hand tight and lifted it up in front of her scarred face.

"When you first saw me, you said these were supposed to be healed," Embry murmured. "But I didn't want them to. I didn't let them."

M're's hand convulsed in Embry's. It twitched, first trying to pull away, then freezing. M're's eyes were locked on the scars on Embry's face.

"Why not?" Her words came out choked.

"Because I almost died that day," Embry declared, and M're jerked back as if slapped, "but I didn't. Neither did our friends. I don't even remember their names anymore, I just remember they're alive because of you. These scars remind me to be like you."

"You're nothing like me."

Embry tried not to wince. M're didn't mean that the way it sounded. From the sound of it, her sister had gone her entire life blaming herself for something she never should have had to worry about. How had Embry never considered that?

"That's the way I feel, too," Embry said. She pulled M're's hand until it touched her face. "I got these the first time I killed, sister."

"They were animals, Firefly."

"They were alive," Embry insisted. "You were saving us, and if I hadn't been so afraid-"

"We would have died."

"That's not how it felt." M're's hand brushed softly against the cracks in Embry's face. The little Jedi tried to guide her sister's hands, to show her that it was alright, even wonderful, to have a face like hers. "It felt like I was scared and I needed a hero and I was so glad I had you. I'm still glad I had you."

They went quiet while Embry looked into M're's eyes. They were black in the blue light, hard to see but still looking right into hers. For the first time Embry could remember, her sister was finally just there with her, with nothing else in the way.

M're pulled her into a hug. She was big and really, really strong, and it was the safest Embry had ever felt. And she'd fought beside Qyzen Fess.

Eventually, and at Embry's mild protest, M're pulled away.

"Better?" she asked.

Embry nodded. She did feel a lot better. It was so strange that, after all the time she'd been home, this was the first open conversation she'd had. It made her wish that she'd ignored Athreon's advice against confronting M're and Fabreé in the beginning.

"Good," said her older sister. "Then you're not leaving?"

Embry fidgeted. This wasn't the end of all the problems. But… at least it gave her somewhere to stand.

This was finally a conflict she could intercede in.

Finally, she nodded.

M're grinned. "Great." She stepped past Embry, ruffling her hair on the way. "I'll head home first. You can stay and think for a bit if you want."

Embry took one last look at the pictures on the wall. It was hard to believe they'd once been hers, but it meant a lot that M're had kept them.

"No," she called to the woman already halfway out the tunnel, "I'll be right behind you."

---

The family sat in silence around the dining room table. Before, they'd alternated between this and the arguments that regularly overtook Azeel and Mother when they did talk. This time, the four sat in the silence following Embry's first family story.

Then Azeel burst out laughing. She slammed a hand on the table, threw her head back, and roared with laughter.

Of course, that meant she had to wait until the tears had cleared from her eyes before she saw Mother's usual primly disapproving expression and Father's smile of amusement. Embry was watching both of them with a little nervousness. For a Jedi Master, she really didn't handle parents well. Or maybe that was all Jedi.

"Hells," Azeel said once she was done, "at least they kept you in the Order after that. What about the Dia chick?"

Mother glared and Azeel rolled her eyes. Whatever. Mother'd been wondering the same thing, even if she wouldn't ask properly.

"Dia'gida is a knight now," Embry said carefully. "She's… learned to be more careful with ceremonial lightsabers. And fountains."

"Right," Azeel snorted, "and you've learned that baby nexu don't like wearing disguises. And neither do their parents."

Embry didn't meet their gazes. "Master Nimi had me repeat, 'there is no chaos, there is harmony', a thousand times after that. I still think Gra-gra would have been happier with his parents."

"There is no chaos, there is harmony," Father repeated. "That still doesn't sound quite right."

As usual, he was missing the entire point. Well, one of the entire points. Obviously one point was that it was hilarious, but Embry probably meant it to break the ice around the whole "Jedi Order" thing.

"It is not the Code we have heard," Mother said thoughtfully. And she would know. She was obsessed with…

Wait.

"Yeah," Azeel said, dredging up vague memories. "I don't remember the Code being big on forbidding anything." She caught a look from Mother. "What? You repeated the thing often enough."

Mother, as usual, opened her mouth to snap back, but this time Embry interjected first.

"If I may," she asked, louder than her usual soft tone, "what is the local interpretation of the Code?"

Father perked up, especially at how a potential fight just got derailed. Poor man didn't have the will or stamina for his family's arguments. Today, though, he sat up in his lecturer's stance to recite, "emotion, yet peace; ignorance, yet knowledge; passion, yet serenity; chaos, yet harmony; death, yet the Force."

Embry listened with rapt attention. It looked exactly like Mother did when she learned about a new civilization or philosophy.

"The Code, as you've just heard it," Mother added, "emphasizes a form of balance, acknowledging or, in some interpretations, embracing emotion, ignorance, passion, chaos, and death. Their counterparts, peace, knowledge, serenity, harmony, and the Force, are either opposites, counterbalances, or reactions to the former aspects of each pair."

The only reason Azeel had any idea what her mother had just said was because she'd had to listen to this kind of talk all her life. Embry, obviously, was stunned and lost. The connections were forming, but she was starting to look like she needed to take a walk to parse out what she'd just heard.

Azeel saved her the trouble.

"We've still got the pairs in mind, but we're okay with both things being there, or we're specifically working to offset the bad ones by helping out the good ones," she explained.

"That is a gross oversimplification," Mother said reprovingly, but stopped when Father touched her hand.

"The Jedi Order hasn't given our little Firefly the same background our students have," Father reminded her.

Mother frowned, but she was willing to give Embry a lot more leeway than she gave Azeel. She gave a nod and got the set look on her face that Azeel recognized.

Nope to that. They'd be here for hours if Mother started explaining the whole philosophy from the start. Azeel could already feel her life shortening preemptively.

"You want the counterbalance, embracing both," Azeel put in.

Everybody looked at her as she sat back in her chair, day saved.

"Why?" Embry asked.

Azeel shrugged. "Seems like you've got the emotion, passion, and chaos stuff down. You're most of the way there. What's the point denying half of who you are because of some set of rules? I figure Mother'll just be explaining what you're already like. "She looked at her mother and gave a 'go ahead' gesture.

Mother dove into her explanation of the various complexities of the Jedi Code as a matter of balance within a person. As usual. Unlike usual, though, Azeel had Embry to watch throughout the whole thing. If nothing else, her sister was entertaining to watch. Her eyes went wide and she actually 'ooh'ed and 'ah'ed at ideas Azeel had been hearing at length for decades.

Yeah, this would take some of the edge off.

---

"Goodbye, Athreon. Goodbye, Fabreé."

Embry hugged her father and bowed to her mother. It felt more comfortable than before. These weeks had been good to her. She hoped they'd been good for all of them.

Fabreé smiled when she stood from her bow. It was a subdued smile, restrained to the "perfect" degree, but it was a smile.

Athreon just looked desolate. At least, Embry consoled herself, that meant he'd miss them.

M're stepped up to say goodbye, too. She swept into a dramatic showman's bow for Fabreé, who returned it with a formal bow and a disapproving frown, then pulled a data stick from her pocket.

Athreon's eyes went wide. He reached forward, but M're flicked her fingers and the data stick flew into the air. Athreon was horrified, reaching into the air to try to catch the device. He missed, snatched again, and Fabreé caught it just as it reached her chest height.

Again, she scowled at M're. "That is a cruel trick to play."

M're gave her a confident smirk. "The day you drop it," she said, "I'm blaming you."

Then she turned and walked away, waving casually and letting Embry catch up. When Embry did catch up, having dodged a few elbows M're had inspired on her way through and soothed a few bruises that were getting caused by the crowd, M're caught Embry's curious look.

"I collect history textbooks when I pass through places on duty. I can't give them to Father when I first come home, though, or I don't see him the whole time."

Embry nodded. That made perfect sense. But… "Should I have brought something?"

M're shrugged. "It's not a big deal. Mother's got this thing about possessions, so she's not big on gifts…" Then she paused and snapped her fingers, pointing one at Embry. "Plants."

Embry smiled. "I could bring seeds home from my travels." She considered. "We will have to be careful, however. Some plants don't like plants from other places."

"Cross-contamination and invasive species, yeah," M're recited the words with none of the ominous tone that really should have come with words like that. "Don't worry, Mother can handle it. We'll just have to warn them to build a greenhouse or something."

To protect the plants from the outside and protect the forest from the new plants. That made sense.

"So where're you shipping off to?" M're asked, instantly changing the subject.

The pair of them got onto the shuttle off-planet. It was crowded enough that Embry was starting to worry about getting lost. With the war starting up again, it made sense that a lot of people needed to get off-planet. It was a sad reason to see the rest of the galaxy, but it was still an opportunity to visit other worlds.

M're pulled on Embry's arm and she almost popped through the crowd to M're's side.

Embry gave her a grateful smile and finally got to answer her question. "I'm off to meet a political group called the Rift Alliance. I was made a Jedi Master so I could be a diplomatic envoy for the Republic."

M're grunted and nodded. "Want some advice?"

Embry nodded enthusiastically. She might not take the advice; M're wasn't the most agreeable sort in an argument, but it meant a lot that she'd offer.

"Don't hold back," M're said, loud over the crowd. "You've got good instincts. Make people learn that."

It was good advice, even if Embry didn't need it. That wasn't M're's fault, though. Her entire time meeting her family, Embry had been much less confident in her right to interfere than she usually was. Then again, diplomacy was just as new to her as family was. Maybe it was a good thing somebody was reminding her to at least try.

"And you," she asked in return. "Where will you be going?"

M're shrugged. "No idea, and I couldn't tell you if I knew. It's all top secret and all. Don't need any advice, either, Firefly, but thanks anyway." She gave Embry the most confident grin imaginable and said, "Havoc Squad is the best. Whatever Elin's got for us, I could do it in my sleep. Maybe I-"

Her eye caught on something in the crowd. "-will. Hey, I think I just found us a more comfortable trip to the station. C'mon."

Then M're set her shoulders and all but charged through the crowd. An armoured tank wouldn't have been more disruptive, and she dragged Embry along with her so the Jedi got to see everybody shooting her glares as she dodged past.

They reached the cockpit door at the same time as somebody else.

"Mr. Hillker?" Embry asked with more surprise than the occasion warranted. How many other pilots could the port have taking passengers from the city up to the space station?

"It's Sora," the man said before he even looked to see who'd spoken. Then he saw them.

Sora's surprise was sweet. His eyes went wide and he broke into a grin. "Embry! Good to see you again. Gearing up for the war, then, huh?" Then his eyes caught M're and his eyebrows went up another notch. "And you!"

He barely glanced between the two of them before nodding opening the door. "Come in, you're both welcome. You're sisters, then? Good stuff. Did you have a good trip?"

The door closed behind them and suddenly the room was quiet. It was pleasant, warm with sunlight and just big enough for three people. There were only two chairs, though.

Sora Hillker sat down at his seat and M're pushed Embry into the co-pilot's chair as they both considered his question. After a few seconds, they both nodded.

"Yep."

"Yes."

Sora grinned. "Honest answer. I like that."

Author's Note

I imagine most people won't have gotten this far. If you have, then thank you, and I hope you enjoyed it. This story for Embry and Azeel has been a long time coming and I think parts of it show how much less experienced I was when I started it. I don't think it's the story most people wanted, either. A Jedi meets her family for the first time? It'd take a much better author than me to make that truly engaging. Even knowing the pair from other of my stories as some of you might, it might not have been what you were expecting. It was necessary, though. It's the first time the two of them meet again, and I couldn't leave that alone.

Anyway, thank you again for reading. For those of you following more of my stories, thank you for taking an interest in my strange little OCs. Any advice, especially critique, is welcome, for this story, for others, and for the SWTOR Legacy series as a whole.