This was definitely not Ruusaan Skirata's first time in prison.

She worked in one, after getting her first educational diploma, in fact.

The Pols Anaxes Republic Detention Center was one of the better kinds of prisons out there. No one wants to be here, prisoners and guards alike, but no one takes it out on each other. Though mostly begrudgingly, everyone followed SOP, keeping their heads down and out of trouble. The atmosphere of sheer resentment and boredom inspired no inclination to distort the order of things.

Of course, the rowdy and more volatile prisoners were locked up in solitary confinement, but even then, they were plenty better than the precinct jail cells Ruusaan was shoved into during her teenage years. The rusting metallic cage was outshined by a well-insulated room, and she had a cozy little hidey-hole all to herself.

Had Ruusaan been a little less bitter, perhaps she could have gotten a regular cell to bunk with a mate, share some stories and make her imprisonment all the more bearable.

As it was, however, her pride would not allow her to surrender and admit defeat so easily.

The one thing almost every prison guarantees you is too much time to think things out. As Ruusaan paced in her cell, all she could think about was what went wrong and what could have gone right. There were people she could have saved, and there were people she should have killed. And, most importantly, there were people she should have never trusted.

It was her fault that the rebels lost Khemerion. The Separatists withdrew from their alliance, the Republic put the dictator – that she should have killed right then and there – back into power, and she was a trillion light years away from her home. Her family – that she could have saved – was gone or dead.

Well... her adopted family was dead. Her biological family, besides mom, was something she tried not to think about too much anymore. They could be alive or dead. All that mattered was that they were gone.

Then again, prison guarantees you too much time to think.

Ruusaan's train of thought dispelled with her pacing halting in an instant as her cell door opened. In walked the camp commander, the warden. He was a clone in a grey uniform, sporting a limp and sharing Ruusaan's unpleasant frown.

"No escort today, lieutenant?" Ruusaan asked, craning her neck to look behind the clone. The usual guard droid was nowhere in sight. "Do I get a prize for good behavior?"

He was still frowning. No-nonsense soldier, just like she used to be. Plus, she did cave the side of his knee in: one of the reasons she was in solitary. "You are being transferred to a new location," he said as if he was reciting lines from a dull script, "off-planet, and you'll be escorted by an independent contractor, courtesy of the Premier of Surcaris."

Ruusaan was already as unmoving as can be. If she could be even more still, flinch or freeze, she would have. Because the Mid-Rim world of Sucaris hadn't had a Premier for six thousand years, except in the fairy tale books her daddy gave her when she was four.

The warden stepped back into the hall, allowing someone else to walk in. Ruusaan scrutinized the stranger, tall and aloof. He had purple armor vaguely reminiscent to a Republic clone trooper's, covering the body and limbs. A satchel hung on his side, and a kilt-like leather armament was wrapped around his waist. A kama, the piece of clothing was called. Plenty of clones and clone commanders wore them, and the gang that started the trend happened to be the same gang that wore a T-shaped visor on their helmets. Quite like the newcomer before her.

"I thought you said we were done," Ruusaan stated once her initial surprise dissipated. "Done and over with."

"You're the one who says I can never keep my word," the Mandalorian replied, his voice as flat as wood. "I'm just proving you right."

"Don't take the piss out of me. Did you seriously track me down, all the way from Khemerion?" No, she didn't need to ask that. Of course he did. Who did Ruusaan think she was talking to?

"Friends in high places," was his excuse. He tossed her a pair of restraints. "Put them on. We have twenty minutes before the warden has to reboot the guard droid, then another ten minutes until the droid reports that you're missing from your cell."

"What makes you think I want to go anywhere with you?" But she already had the cuffs equipped, feigning her restraint, and they were already on the move. They each kept their chins high, their shoulders rigid. They were going on autopilot to ease out of their anxiety, focusing on their impromptu task at hand.

The droids didn't give them a single glance. The clone guards looked over once or twice but then went on about their own business. Some prisoners outright stared, but the two escapees were moving too fast to be seen for long.

"Ruu," the Mandalorian said lowly as they neared a doorway. It was the second-to-last checkpoint with guards posted, so he had his ID card ready for scanning. "I'm sorry."

That should have made Ruusaan flinch. Instead, she was as cold as an ice sculpture. "Tell that to everyone who died," she hissed back.

"You and I both knew it was suicide mission," he harshly bit back.

"You were the one who said we had each other's backs. You said you'd keep your word, and then you left us behind!"

They swiftly passed through the checkpoint with ease, and now they had the benefit of being completely alone and away from prying eyes and ears. "I might have left," Ruusaan's apparent savior replied with a sour taste, "but after everything was said, you were the one who walked away."

Ruusaan thought plenty on what she would do if she ever met this particular person again. If he wasn't necessary for her assured escape from this prison, she would have knocked him down to his arse.

Their mutual silence persisted for a while. Both sides had more to say. Both knew it was not the place or time, however, and it irked them to no end.

"Excuse me, sir!" Mandalorian and would-be prisoner shifted their gazes to the source of the exclamation. A clone trooper with a rifle and a male prisoner in restraints were jogging, attempting to keep up.

The Mandalorian discreetly clutched and released Ruusaan's arm. Play it by ear. "Apologies, trooper," he said to their followers, "but the inmate and I have an appointment to attend to."

"Hold on, sir." The clone maneuvered around so that he was blocking the hallway. He held up a datapad. "The warden informed me of the inmate's transfer, but this woman may be using an alias and must be –"

"Any data you have will be out-of-date," came the Mandalorian's response in a heartbeat. He pushed his hand against the male inmate's face, hard enough so the prisoner fell back. The clone was pulled along with him, and Ruusaan's escort to freedom resumed. "As the warden probably told you, moving her immediately is top-priority."

Ruusaan silently gave the trooper, whoever he is, some credit. He was back on their trail in seconds. "My prisoner here," he continued, "can identify your prisoner's true identity right now if you just give us a minute."

The Mandalorian gave a push behind Ruusaan so she'd keep moving forward. She looked over her shoulder to observe as her handler began to walk backwards. He was giving the inmate with the scruffy beard a once-over with the clone making insistent gestures to stop.

"You weren't on Khemerion," the Mandalorian said.

The clone's upper torso shuttered, as if he was resisting a sigh. "He's a Separatist prisoner who can identify–"

"He wasn't on Khemerion. You intel's wrong, trooper."

The datapad was raised again. "I have all the information –"

"All Separatists and rebels who were on Khemerion and interacted with Skirata here are dead. I confirmed the kills myself. So your intel is wrong."

There was a look of – something, on the male inmate's face. Recognition or shock or whatever, Ruusaan did not know. Nor did she care since she and her companion were nearly home free, and there was no way in hell that some random clone and his pretty-boy captive were going to screw them over.

"But sir –"

Ruusaan's hand twitched. There were no witnesses around, so she was half-attempted to use her cuffs to choke out pretty-boy. Her Mando buddy would be on the clone in a millisecond. It would most likely be messy, but that was nothing new.

It'd be like the things they've done together on Khemerion. Just like old times.

Unfortunately, another pair of clone troopers appeared at the end of the hall, heading straight for them. The clones were marching in sync at a fast pace, rifles in hand. At this rate, Ruu and her "friend" were going have to go guns blazing and improvise.

One of the approaching clones stopped mid-step. "You have got to be kidding me."

The Mandalorian pulled out his blasters. In one hand was the pistol that was hanging off his hip. He pulled back the hammer, inciting an echo from the revolving chamber. His other hand grasped the pistol that was holstered around his lower leg, more modern and compact in design. He aimed toward the initial clone's captive and at the clone who had spoken. Everyone froze, and Ruusaan instinctively hugged the wall, not wanting to get caught in a potential crossfire.

Faces can't be seen behind helmets and masks, but Ruusaan has been around enough people stacked in armor to notice when they uncomfortably stiffen.

"Sully?" the Mandalorian blurted aloud.

"Yeah, it's me," said whoever this Sully fellow is. The clone sounded mildly stunned while simultaneously weary. "Is this woman a bounty?"

"Bit more personal than that. Is she you're bounty?"

"Well, it's also a bit more personal than that." Sully glanced over their surroundings before turning to his partner. Their look lasted just long enough for Ruu to grow curious and suspicious. "We're working for Kal Skirata. He heard his daughter was jailed and wanted to break her out."

She should have kept up her poker face, but Ruusaan's frown morphed into a thin line. She blinked a few times and straightened her back. "Kal Skirata?"

"Yeah, your father."

The bearded prisoner spoke up, watching cautiously. "We're not here to fight, and neither are you. We're here to help."

Ruusaan didn't know what to say. The name "Kal Skirata" went through her head many times during her stay in prison, and this was the first time she heard it be said out loud in over a decade.

The Mandalorian's pistols remained aimed and armed. "Can I trust you, Sully? You nearly got me and Ny killed on the last job we had together."

"But I came back, didn't I? And right now, you don't have a whole lot of options if you want to escape."

That final line was the deciding point for the Mandalorian. He holstered his weapons and resumed his rapid gait. Sully matched his pace to a perfect tee as everyone else scrambled to do the same.

"Who is this, Sull?" the clone who had accompanied Sully uttered quietly.

"He's Mando'ad. He'll play straight. Talk about it later."

The group was silent all the way till they entered a gunship and were leaving the planet's atmosphere. However, they could have been having a conversation on a secure helmet comm. The bearded inmate kept giving Ruusaan strange looks, but she only vaguely caught his glimpses as her mind continued to turn at the idea of Kal Skirata sending people to get her out of prison.

"Dad" was a word Ruusaan had written off in her vocabulary as something too personal. Most familial terms, actually, she had dropped off as too personal. But with "dad," things were… different. For both her adopted and biological fathers.

The Sull fellow was talking to the purple Mandalorian while one of the clones busied himself in the cockpit.

"Kal Skirata," Ruusaan murmured as she caressed her uncuffed wrists. "So he came for me. He really did."

"Of course he did," said the other clone currently unoccupied with a job aside from outright staring at Ruu. "Kal'buir never forgets his family."

"Kal'buir?"

"Yeah… and that makes me your stepbrother, Ruu. My name's Fi." He took off his helmet to reveal his face, a hesitant smile being shown.

Ruusaan blinked a few times. Kal'buir. Buir. She was pretty sure that was the Mandalorian equivalent to parent. Her dad apparently adopted a clone, and she has killed a few of them during the war. "How did he find me?"

"Your brothers got in touch… eventually."

Brothers. Another word I'm not sure how to feel about. "Has he forgiven me?"

"For what?"

"For never contacting him."

Fi suddenly appeared full of doubt. His face probably wasn't too far off from Ruu's own. He looked to the bearded inmate, who wasn't an inmate at all. Bardan Jusik was the name he introduced, and he seemed distracted and offered no words.

"You're back now," Fi finally chose to say. "That's all that he'll care about."

Sully snorted obnoxiously, crossing his arms. "Yeah, it will be one hell of a family reunion for Clan Skirata." He moved to slip between his fellow passengers to get into the cockpit. He pointed a thumb behind him. "Spar and I will stay on for now, but if he is going to stick around, don't expect us to stay for long."

Ruu, Fi, and Jusik all looked to the he, the purple Mandalorian. He had an arm draped across his chest with a hand stroking the lower part of his helmet.

"I don't think we've been introduced," Jusik announced, attempting a cordial smile. "Sull said we can trust you, but who exactly are –"

"So you've got the cure for accelerated clone aging," the Mandalorian interrupted. "Is that what you're paying Sully? Is it up for sale?" Jusik was speechless once more. Ruu rolled her eyes. Her "friend" could never pass up haggling, no matter the situation. If Ruu was still in the business, she might have done the same.

She turned back to Fi. "You said my brothers contacted…" What should she refer to Kal Skirata as? "… my dad. Which one was it?"

"It was Tor. He called." There was a quiver in Fi's lips. "He was worried about you."

"Really?" The last time she was on amiable terms with Tor, he had thrown her out of his apartment with a flimsy kitchen knife and a drunken rant, just because she had robbed a bank and needed a place to lay low. "First time for everything."

The purple Mando faked a profuse cough.

"You don't count," Ruu countered. "Tor's always been honest at heart. You tried to get me killed that one time."

"… I didn't know it was you behind the mask."

"Attempted murder's still attempted murder, regardless of mistaken identity."

"Coming from a murderer," the Mandalorian muttered under his breath. Ruu's eyes flared.

"Don't you bloody start, mercenary."

"Yet I'm the only one in our family to earn a college degree. Legally."

"Joke's on you. Tor got his, legally, while we were off playing bounty hunter." That stopped the Mando in his tracks. "I sent an invite to you, for the celebrations. Didn't reply or send any message worth a damn."

"I… I was busy." Embarrassed, was he? He should be. "Clan stuff. It was –"

"Was what? Serious? Complicated? A loud of bull? You're starting to sound a lot like –"

Bardan waved his hands and stepped between the Mando and Ruu. "There's no need for us to get so heated." He looked to the T-shaped visor staring past him. "You… you're Ruusaan's other brother, aren't you?"

Ruu saw Fi fix the same nervous stare he was giving her now on the armored Mandalorian. The look reminded her a little bit of herself, when she was younger and unsure of where anyone in her family stood.

"That's right," Ruu's brother answered, as detached and cold as he could be. "My name is Ijaat Skirata. I'd like to know why my biological dad has a sudden interest in his blood family."