The more I think about it, the more I realize it's true.
You've been an exile too.
I can tell by your stance.
The way you walk, move, the way you stand tall and straight but keep your broad shoulders tensed, like you're just waiting for the world to try to rip what's yours from your grasp.
Your pale jade eyes regard the universe behind a cool wall of lies and false emotions.
Eyes I'd be a complete fool to trust.
I've known a thousand of your type.
I've been your type.
A sad, amateur copy of your type, but still.
But as much as you and Kreia would like me to believe otherwise, I know that's not all there is to you.
I'd put my word as an exile on it.
So when one of Atris's handmaidens tells me you know Echani fighting forms, I'm not surprised.
I've picked up my share of spare skills during my exile, too.
I have a few that would even interest someone like you, Atton.
Someone like who you pretend to be, at any rate.
When I enter the cockpit, you have pazaak cards scattered all over the console and you turn in surprise as soon as you hear my footsteps. You turn back around before I can say anything.
"I said I'm fine," you state, before I can even get a word out. "Unless we're finishing the interrogation now? Because I think I might have some childhood memories from Alderaan you could try to pry out of me," you aggressively add. I wait for you to turn and look at me, but you don't move.
"You're from Alderaan?" I ask carefully, after a few seconds' pause.
"Nice try," you retort, scoffing, but at the very least, you finally stand up to face me. You study my face and I keep it impassive. I bite on my lip before speaking again.
"I guess I just thought your Echani training would have-"
"I don't know what you're talking about," you say shortly, and I witness your icy walls getting thicker by the second. Your eyes narrow at me. "I don't know where you even got that ridiculous-"
"One of Atris's handmaidens mentioned you dropped into Echani stance when we were captured," I inwardly wince at my poor attempt to sound casual.
"Oh. That," you say, your tone calming slightly. I notice your shoulders relax just slightly and you opt to lean against your pilot's chair. "If you pretend to know that stuff... well, you can't imagine how many situations that's gotten me out of. I mean, it doesn't compare to wearing a lightsaber, but look at how much that's helped you," you sneer, thoughtlessly waving the question away.
"You don't have to get defensive about it. I was just asking because she seemed so sure," I scowl, annoyed. I can't help but cross my arms in preemptive defense.
"Yeah? Well, I don't ask any dumb questions about your past, angel. If you want to tell me something, I figure you will. So you could at least show me that same respect." That tense, uncomfortable hunch of your shoulders returns as you stand up straight, crossing your own arms right back at me.
"Force! I'm not accusing you of murder, Atton!" I retort before I can help myself. "I just thought...if you did have some kind of special training- that could be an asset," I try carefully. "You, I mean."
You don't say anything. Your eyes search mine, your mouth pressed in a hard straight line. I look away first, biting my lip.
"You...you can leave when we get there, if you want," I tell the ground. "I wouldn't blame you. Dantooine's mostly farmers, but I'm sure you could book off-world passage easily."
"What?" you ask. I meet your eyes again, pale viridian irises that seem confused by my words. "No, that's not what I...I was just complaining. Besides, someone's gotta fly the ship. I'm here until things start going better for you," you state evenly. I can sense something behind your words, but I'm not sure what. "Or, you know, until they go worse..."
"Really?" I ask, hiding my unexpected relief. "I was sure you'd want to get far away from us as soon as possible. Why would you want to stay?"
You study me silently, your arms falling back at your sides.
I don't know how long it is before you speak again.
"You want to know something about me?" you ask finally, a wry smile curving your lips. "I'm good at lying, shooting, cards, drinking, cracking wise, and running. That's something you can be sure about, angel. I'll stay, I'll help you as long as I can, but don't count on me for anything else. The faster you learn that, the better it is for all of us. There's nothing more to me than that."
"I think you're lying right now," I counter, meeting and matching your cool green gaze defiantly. You smile crookedly.
"See? You already know me," you reply, turning to settle back into your chair, signaling the end of the conversation.
Well, guess what?
I know something else about you, Atton.
I don't know if you can feel it, considering the fact that I'm still unsure of my raw, newly re-established connections to the Force. Although, if you can feel it in the slightest, I doubt you'd admit it:
We're bonded through the Force.
It might be because we saved each other's lives, or it may just be my natural aptitude for bonding that made my Masters eye me warily during lessons.
And Force, has it really been over ten years since then?
Maybe I'll tell you about it someday.
If I ever choose to tell anyone what I've done, better you than anyone else.
After all, despite the fact that I know next to nothing about you, I do know you're just like me.
I will promise you one thing, Atton. I won't get attached.
Even a sorry excuse for an ex-Jedi exile like me knows how those kinds of things turn out.
Go ahead, keep your secrets- as long as I get to bury mine.
I won't even pry.
You can have my word as a fellow exile on it.
