Please note. My Jedi Knight, Camiel Shorn, is a survivor of a traumatic assault at a very young age. For those of you who have difficulty considering such a sensitive topic, feel free to bypass this take on the Knight story. But if it helps, her story is one of rediscovery, of herself and her memories and her family so that such a painful event never managed to truly destroy her.

Also ... Some of you have read my other stories. The style of this work may be a bit different than you're used to, and I'm not sure it won't come off as too confusing. So I'm explaining upfront, before you even start reading. That this is a tale told through the prism that is the interaction and growing relationship Camiel shares with Doc. He's the one she turns to, in order to find her own lost memory. That means most chapters will include byplay between them that's set more in the "present", so that she's basically telling him her story and actually rediscovering it as they go along together. Those sections will be italicized, to avoid too much confusion.

Finally. Camiel is the "baby" of my Legacy. I see her as being cute and adorable, with plenty of foibles and endearing habits galore. If you're looking for a Knight who's stiffly noble, this isn't the girl for you to consider. Please enjoy getting to know my Camiel. I've loved her for ages, and I hope you like her, too.

Camiel only smiled. "I was very much afraid I'd forget my name, as well, actually." She stared towards the handsome doctor. Medical men invariably set her at ease, as if their mere presence was a soothing balm of some sort. She'd once joked towards Brye it had something to do with their habit of providing candies after every jabbing probe they made with a needle. Camiel had an extraordinary appreciation for sweet foods.

But this man tantalized even more of her senses than her taste buds. Which was probably good, considering how awful his cooking was, enough Kira had taken to chasing him out of the mess every time he poked his head through the doors.

Not that she could ask Kira about these other sensations, either. Cam frowned down towards her lap, sighing mournfully over the heat that gathered there whenever Doc glanced in her direction. And his teasing only made it worse, too! He'd wiggle a grin towards her whenever he tossed out some joke so that she felt like squirming right there in place.

Whoever heard of a woman turned on by any old damn joke?

Or maybe it was Doc himself. His voice? That teasing twinkle in his eyes whenever he slanted her a look? The dark colors of his hair and eyes, or the way his body twisted whenever he moved about his work. That focused determination that marked his face whenever he set himself to a task … Whatever it was, though, no other fellow had managed to so neatly capture her attention. The one time she said something about how attractive he was to Kira, though, her friend only gagged with purest drama, utterly sickened.

The entire thing only confused Cam. She'd found herself in front of the mirror in her quarters, carefully examining her features for some sign she was half so beautiful as Doc continued to claim. She had always thought herself rather plain, anyway. She was no fiery redhead, like Kira. And her eyes were just as brown as any mud on one of the numerous worlds they visited. Nor was she so ephemeral as one of those prettier aristocrats in the high-up levels of Coruscant City, either.

And that was part of the rub, too. Doc seemed as experienced with feminine attentions, as Camiel was clueless where men were concerned. Women seemed to follow him around, even chase after him given the chance. That's mostly what offended Kira about Doc, that he was so cavalier in his flirtations. If Cam didn't know better, she would assume Kira had yanked Doc aside and blistered his ears with warnings and dire threats.

Okay, so maybe she didn't know better. Because Doc certainly hadn't seemed so inclined to support her in finding the broken ends of her memory and putting them back together again. He looked ready to bolt when she approached him, even. It'd very nearly induced her into running back out of the medical bay towards her quarters, just to verify she didn't stink from some kind of foul body odor. But Cam had resolutely stood her ground, and spoke her request of him.

And for whatever reason, no matter how upsetting he found her presence or whatever threats from Kira so terrified him, Doc agreed, leaned there against the wall right now with both his arms crossed over his chest as he regarded her carefully enough. He murmured to her, "So you knew your memories were blocked, then?"

Cam nodded, "He only wanted to stop how much I was hurting. I'm not sure he truly comprehended what he was doing, even. He was only seven years old at the time, mind you."

"This would be that young Miraluka Jedi? What did you call him – Brye?"

Camiel smiled, "He's sixteen now."

Doc eased off the wall, standing straighter so that he looked more serious. More doctor-like. She wondered if it was something he was trying to affect. Like he was trying to keep her at some distance, maybe. But why, she frowned.

"So we start there, then. When you fought just to remember your name. You were ten. And injured …"

"Dying. I was dying, Doc. Make no mistake, only Brye managed to reach me before I slipped away. It stunned all of them, partly why they've called him the strongest Jedi since Revan himself. Although they were watching him even before then, too."

Doc stilled as he looked back at her. Camiel felt the barriers he'd put in place, to keep her from truly judging his emotions using the Force. A technique she herself instructed for him, and one she suddenly regretted. Because now she couldn't help but wonder what he was thinking, as he stood there with his lips all pressed so tightly shut and his entire frame held so taut and straight.

Then he seemed to blink, as if he was consciously pulling himself from whatever thoughts were troubling him. He nodded slowly then, "Very well. You were dying. But you remembered, then?"

She frowned thoughtfully, "Partly. Bits and pieces. Like a recording that only came in broken streams. It was like … some of it, I didn't want to remember. Others I blocked, because … because … No, I still can't remember! I can't remember that!" She was becoming agitated again. It was patent enough, that Doc actually stepped close enough to cup her shoulders in both his palms. He held her softly, just letting her know she wasn't alone right then.

"See? That's a good place to start, then." She smiled up at him tremulously, her fear and anxiety melting away. He breathed in slowly, drawing in her scent as he looked down at her. She could see the whiskers covering his upper lip trembling slightly. But she didn't recognize that feeling, either, and he didn't give her time enough to ponder it. Only stepped back once she was in a better frame of mind again. "Can't the Jedi who blocked your memories simply unblock them?"

Camiel shrugged, "Perhaps. But he will not even try."

Doc shot her a confused glance, "Why?"

"He says I'm not ready."

He sighed heavily, actually lifting his eyes towards the ceiling of the medical bay as if there could be some incredible answer from divinity itself. "More Jedi nonsense. That means we'll have to work harder, is all. So tell me about how you remembered your name, then …"

"My name is Camiel." Even she thought her voice sounded reedy and thin. As if the pain trembling through her little body couldn't help but find its way into the motions her vocal cords produced. Her lower lip quivered under the strain, so that she caught it carefully between her teeth. Because it was somehow important that no one really understand how much she hurt. The voices on the other end of the room went along working, so she knew none of them had heard her, though.

She repeated the words again, driven and desperately afraid. Because she was afraid of losing that much more of her own self. "I am … Camiel."

"That's a nice name. Camiel."

Camiel slowly twisted her head to the side, looking off from the table where they'd laid her so that the doctors could poke and prod against her terrible hurts. Her voice eventually became rough from the screams that tore loose from her throat as they worked. Now she lay there, like a broken doll who's strings were cut and ruined. She wasn't bleeding anymore, at least. But it didn't change anything.

She was all ruined. Even inside. Especially inside … So much ruined. And she rubbed her little fingers over the soft skin just below her small hip, there along the very top of her thigh. Her legs hurt so much, too, and she whimpered, her stomach knotting as her heart thumped slowly in her chest. That's when he spoke to her again.

"You're so sad. Why?"

She focused on him, actually turned her head against the flat surface of the medical table. She blinked back the shimmer of tears that darkened her eyes into slate there in her face just to see him better. He was … so little. Much smaller even than she was, and she'd not truly eaten a solid meal in so long she could even remember it. Just a little boy, with russet brown hair all tied up into intricate braids all over his tiny head. His head was canted sideways as he considered her. But he looked so strange, too. She whispered to him through her shattered voice, "What's wrong with your eyes?"

He smiled at her. As if the curiosity she felt, that replaced her sadness for even that brief moment of time pleased him. Like he knew the ebb and flow of her emotions, while she lay there gazing at him. He didn't seem to like the darker emotions beating at her, though. Not like that other one, the bigger man who'd thrown her away when he was finished, who'd seemed to enjoy every squeal of pain, every whimpered hurt she voiced. She was glad he wasn't there, that he was far away. Far away. Stay far away …

And the boy's smile disappeared as fear replaced the sweetness of her curiosity. He reached out a single little hand, softly touching her own fingers. Trying to distract her, to send the fear from her heart. "My eyes aren't like yours. That's why we cover them. Our sense of sight comes from the Force, not from anything of our bodies."

Camiel wriggled her fingers against his touch, clasping their hands together and whispering again. "My name … it's Camiel."

He nodded, holding her hand. "My name is Brye."

Pain twisted in her stomach again, those hot fiery stokes of pain driving once more into her awareness. Camiel felt new tears welling in her dark brown eyes, felt the slide of the moisture over her pale cheeks. Sliding down into the wash of black hair that streamed across the medical table. It hurt, everything hurt so much, and the brief wiggle she made with her hips to try and settle her small body into a more comfortable position only made it worse.

It burned! Her entire body felt like it was burning up, like it was on fire with pain and endless hurt!

Brye was looking towards her stomach, as if he could see the pain that twisted her small form into knots and agony. She wasn't entirely certain how she knew he was looking at her, though. Not when that part of his face was covered by the pale softness of a cloth blindfold, held in place by a thin band that encircled his head. But she knew he was giving her what amounted to a blinking stare, all the same. He whispered to her, "Someone hurt you."

Camiel whimpered, pushing back the flaring image that blazed in her memory for a single, devastating moment. A slender weapon, all sharp and pointed as it rose over her. It flashed every time it sang downwards towards her belly. Over and over, and it burned! And a horrible voice there in the background, a horrible voice, "She's served her purpose. Get rid of her …"

Her back arched, as she strained away from the memory. And the pain and hurt pulsed even harder there in her stomach. Brye's face tautened, his lips thinning into the most determined poise against the lower half of his face. He stepped closer to the table, his head dropping low until their foreheads very nearly touched. And he whispered again, "I'll not let it hurt."

From nearby there was a bustle of motion. Like softly-tooled boots rushed over the stone floor of the place where they'd carried her. All those faces that loomed over her for hours and days, one after another. They were always sad when they came to look down at her, eyes filled with tears in some instances. Anger in others. One was a soldier in a hard armored uniform, asking loud questions about justice. But most were medical men. She liked them, clung to them. Medical men were safe, they would fight for her, soothe her hurts.

Just like her da …

Camiel drifted softly, her gaze turning hazed and distant. Everything was going far away, even the voice calling out to her new friend. An oldster of some sort, hurried and frantic, "Brye! No, you're not ready! Not for so much as that …" But Camiel was sliding away and only Brye's scramble to tighten his fingers over hers kept her hand from falling limply onto the cushions lining the table. But he just whispered her name again.

"Camiel."

She was suddenly standing straight in some strange place all bright with light and energy, pulsing bright energy. There was no sound, no color. Such a strange place, all pulsing and strong and real. She only felt it all around her. There was nothing but her own self standing there. And there was the man in front of her, then. He stood so smartly straight there, so dignified and strong in his proud uniform.

Her dark-haired head fell backwards so that she could look up into his face. He was pale-skinned, his features strongly angular and handsome. He was so preciously familiar, although she couldn't have spoken his name. She only knew he'd always been the most handsome man, with skilled fingers that worked against hurting people just to fix the damage done them. She smiled at him now, "You'll make it stop. You won't let that bad man hurt me anymore."

His eyes became even darker, and he dropped down onto one knee in front of her. He reached out with one of his larger than life hands to cup her face into his palm. He looked far more sad even than she felt, "My smallest button. You still make everyone fit together, you know. Even so far away as you are now. They'll look for you, always."

Camiel reached out, gripping the tail ends of the seams on both sides of his uniform. Gripped them hard as if she'd lose him if she only let go for a moment. "It hurts so much. Please. Make it stop." She didn't understand why his deeply brown eyes turned wet. She knew he didn't cry, he never cried. Because he was strong enough to refuse such things.

"I know it hurts, button. It will stop very soon, the Jedi will make it stop. You can trust him." He lifted her up, until she rested gently on his upturned knee and he could wipe away the moisture that glistened on her cheeks with some small cloth he pulled from his pocket. "I'll be even more far away once he's done, you know. You won't be able to see … not any of us. Not for a very long time."

Camiel frowned, glancing to the side where everything was so dark, so strange. Like it was weightless. Black. Like a solid wall that blocked her from seeing anything past the edges of her understanding. It almost seemed a threatening thing, all looming and dangerous. But what did it hold back, if not something terrible? What if it failed and came tumbling down? What would happen then … No! He must not see it, not anymore. It hurts him …!

Who is he, though? She couldn't remember. Only flashes of blue eyes, frantic calls of her name, scrambling, scrambling. Who is he?

She turned back around to ask the man, who cried over every hurt she was feeling. But now it was Brye standing there, and she blinked at him through confused brown eyes. Standing face to face, they were nearly the same height even though the boy was so much younger. Camiel knew she shouldn't be so thin, that her scrawniness was aberrant. It was wrong. Like the hurt that still burned her belly. There was never enough food, anyway. Not in any of the pens, the cages they tucked her up inside.

Brye lowered his head, looking down her front. How was it he'd reached this strange, alien place? He was so little! He ached with sadness, until he seemed nearly to shake as they stood there together. Camiel carefully smoothed the pale gown they'd put on her down along her sides, trying to hide the damage from him. It didn't really fool him, she knew. But he didn't leave her there alone, either. He even reached out to hold her hand again, "Master Sihmon told me there are terrible men, who do terrible things. But it still hurts to see it for myself."

Camiel felt pulled, like there was a thread there in the center of her own self. She could almost see it, even. Leading somewhere far off and away from all of it, where nothing hurt anymore. The temptation to follow the pull was so much harder suddenly. But Brye's hold on her hand was just warm, just … real. She settled herself softly there in front of him, closed her eyes. "It doesn't hurt so much when you hold me."

"I know."

"My name is Camiel." Because the last understanding was drifting away so gently. All of it leaving to hide behind that same dark wall that hid him from her. Where he couldn't be hurt anymore, she wondered softly. But who is he?

They were all going far from her.

"Will they find me, Brye?"

"When it's time, maybe."

"When will that be?"

"When you need them again."

Camiel opened her eyes. Brye was glowing brightly gold, a shimmering thing that shined brighter and brighter in her gaze until all she could see was his face. Only his face, with the cloth that covered where his eyes should be and everything else around them brilliant white and gold, and her belly warmer and warmer. Moisture dotted his brow, and the braids of his hair trembled slightly. But he didn't let her go, he didn't let go. So she stayed.

He made the hurting stop, until everything was quieted away behind that dark veil and only the two of them were left. Two tiny children, clinging to each other to keep the blackest things, the most ugly of men from reaching them.

"I'm Camiel Shorn."

"I'm Brye Ell."

"I won't forget my name, will I?"

"No. Not that."

The Jedi Knight class story is included in "Star Wars: The Old Republic" by Bioware and Electronic Arts. All characters and story are their property, and I make no claim to the original class story they told. They did a phenomenal job, and I am grateful I was allowed the chance to experience it! Kudos, Bioware! You have my most unending gratitude for a wonderful story!