Author's Notes: First and foremost, Star Wars: The Old Republic belongs to LucasArts and Bioware. Secondly, although I mention it on the cover art I'll mention it again here, all copyrights for Star Wars' associated images are held by LucasArts… or someone not me. Images were retrieved from the ever-helpful Star Wars Wiki and no infringement is intended. If it's Star Wars related then they probably have it somewhere.

This piece is meant to be a kind of companion piece to Welcome to My Nightmare. It should also be noted that there is a time gap between Jaesa's and Hella's experiences. Since we don't know how old Jaesa actually is, she's portrayed eighteen (closer to seventeen than to nineteen) for the purposes of this work.

~RS~

And I know of the pain that you feel the same as me

And I dream of the rain as it falls upon the leaves

And the cracks in our lives like the cracks upon the ground

They are sealed and are now washed away.

~Rainmaker, Iron Maiden

-Jaesa-

Tatooine was… bright. It was an understatement, but it was the only way to really describe the place. I noticed the brightness before I noticed the heat, or the smell of burning sand, before I really took in the spaceport, a giant bazaar full of people wearing varying degrees of concealing sun-blocking clothes and tiny Jawas running hither and thither piping in their own strange language.

In that first couple of seconds I thought I'd been utterly blinded. Then the white began to take on shape and definition.

Still, it was way brighter than any place had any right to be.

My nerves trembled. "Is this… is this really necessary, my master?" I asked, moving to stand close to Master Karr's elbow. The jostle of the crowd left me uneasy, wondering if I could be swept away like a twig in a steam. Once again, I noticed that my robes didn't seem to fit right. My lightsaber felt heavy and alien at my hip.

And the idea of being dumped with some strange master just like that… scared me. I was nervous enough around Master Karr; how was I supposed to cope with a total stranger? The worry left me feeling nauseous.

"Trust me, Jaesa. If anyone can help you, it's Master Yonlach," Master Karr answered simply.

Help me. He made it sound like I was sick. Could I lose control of my power? And what would that even look like? Could I go crazy from sensing too much and not being able to shut it out?

I shuddered inwardly and followed Master Karr through the spaceport, squinting as we came out into the sunlight. It was like stepping into a furnace and I would swear I felt the moisture in my body start evaporating right out of my skin the instant the suns' light hit it. The heat haze radiating off of… everything… made the whole place look like something out of a dream, wrapped in heat haze.

And not necessarily a good dream.

"Master Karr!"

We both turned to see a strapping Jedi hurrying forward. His robes showed he'd been traveling no small bit, the hems caked in sand and the rest streaked with sand. His face had tan lines indicating he'd been wearing goggles for most of his trip. He regarded me with frank curiosity (when he deigned to notice me at all) and Master Karr with deep respect. "Master Yonlach sent me," the lad explained. "I am Yul-Li." He bowed at the waist.

I resisted the nervous urge to scan him with my special power. Master Karr seemed to think he was alright, so I said nothing, reminding me that it wasn't really necessary to do it, since Master Karr was there.

"It's good to see you again," Master Karr declared, shaking the knight's hand warmly. "Is Master Yonlach unwell?"

"Master Yonlach is aging, as you well know," Yul-Li answered serenely. "I prevailed upon him to save his strength and he agreed—but only so he might have all his available faculties in order to assist your Padawan." He flicked his eyes to me, eyebrows twisting as though he found me… odd.

I frowned, then wiped it off my face as I turned my eyes to the ground. Your Padawan. It was wearying how often people talked about me like I wasn't standing right there.

It didn't stop at the end of this conversation, either. It persisted into the next one, and the one after that.

-Hella-

It smelled like broken dreams and shattered hopes.

Or maybe that was the remnant of Nar Shaddaa stuck in my nostrils and mingling with the reek of burning sand. I could have gone a lifetime without setting foot on this sandbox of a world—not the least because Sith with delicate skin (and this in addition being a natural redhead and a Dromund Kaas native) tend to sunburn easily. Hence the ridiculous, shroud-like garment I wore that filtered the sun to something bearable but left me looking like some kind of ridiculous mutant Jawa.

Quinn wore one, too, but his seemed more comfortable and didn't flap like a veil over his face. He could make do with a hood and goggles, for which I envied him.

I tried to console myself that being bad-tempered was not an un-useful thing… but it was hard to make myself believe it. "Lord Baras says we're looking for a woman called Sharack Breev," Quinn noted, almost secretarially.

Shyrack, is it?

Shyrack are nuisances on Korriban. It's not a name. Unless she had a fool for a parent. Or, perhaps, it's spelled differently. "Hm. What do you think of this place, Quinn?"

I could feel it like a thrum against my senses, a strangely warped concentration of the Force as though it had been turned inside out, twisted, then had half itself turned right-side out again. It was a strange mess, like something warped and melted—that was an even better way to describe it.

Quinn twisted his mouth below his dark goggles. He would fare a little better than I, but not much. Dromund Kaas natives are not adapted for the ridiculous habitat that is Tatooine.

At that instant, a skinny woman with darkly tanned skin and sun-bleached hair came into the hangar. As soon as she was about eight feet back, she bowed deeply. I felt it in seconds: like Quinn, like Dellocon, she was Force-deaf, degrees shy of being a true Sensitive. I had to wonder at Darth Baras' subtlety. Most Sith would lump the Force-deaf in with true non-Sensitives; thus, most Sith use the terms interchangeably when, in fact, they are not the same thing.

After all, if an individual can't actually use the Force, what good are they? That's the traditionalist mindset, anyway.

The traditionalist mindset overlooks the fact that because one cannot use the Force does not mean one is not used by the Force. Hunches, unerring senses of direction, an especially sharpened skill, any one of these can be useful both to the one experiencing them and anyone who seeks to make use of the one who experiences them.

Look at Dellocon: how else would he have known so certainly his number had come up if he didn't have some hunch, some faculty screaming at him that it was so? That isn't the sort of thing Baras would let slip and I know Baras is far too astute to let his spies know who the others are, so Rylon's fate couldn't possibly have tipped Dellocon off.

That is a basic lesson for those who practice subtlety: if one agent is exposed, that one agent cannot betray many of the others.

"The harsh sands of Tatooine welcome you, my lord. I am Sharack Breev." Her bright eyes studied Quinn and me frankly, with curiosity and interest. "Our lord and master, Darth Baras, bid me welcome you and to impart my knowledge of this planet." She spoke with many fluid gestures, almost as though she were starring in one of the older styles of theatrical works where speech is underscored by motion. "He bade to help you track down the Jedi Master Yonlach, and so I shall."

"I'm pleased to have your aid in this endeavor," I answered.

Sharack smiled, teeth white against her dark skin. "I will be your compass. The path to Master Yonlach is… winding. You will find him by following the path the girl took, I'm sure of it. Come, my lord; I shall illuminate your way."