A Step Away

I. A Step Away From the Darkness

Disclaimer and Introduction: Everyone has an epic story in them at some point or another, yes? Well, after playing 'Star Wars: Knights of the Old Republic' for perhaps the thirteenth time, I decided that while ficbits are all well and good, I want a little more substance to my writing.

Lucas Arts and Bioware own Knights of the Old Republic, all its world, characters, etc. I'm simply borrowing them.

Enjoy.

Happiness

The waves were crashing on the shore and knocking down the smallest of her towers. She had tried her hardest to solidify these small structures, used small scraps of metal at their core in order to keep them erect, but they were a lost cause. As a precautionary method, she had built a moat about the fortress's perimeter so that it too would not crumble. She was sure that the largest of her structures would not crumble, not with the layers of sand and silt she had packed so neatly and tightly. This was her personal citadel, with each layer of beach she added, another wall was built in her mind to solidify her resolve. They couldn't take that from her! No, they'd never breach it so long as she continued to shape and smooth the sandy walls.

She stood at attention before the two masters. She was tired, they were all tired, but she wished she wasn't. She wanted to prove to them that she was still strong, that they had been wrong and what they had done was even more so. She wanted them to let her go. It was an impossible cause, she thought, but by sheer force of will she had been able to change many other events. So why now was this any different?

Her arms hung at her sides and there was a notable absence of the Jedi's weapons. They had taken them from her, promising them back when she was 'ready.' They would have taken her ability to use the Force away if they could, but she had locked her mind down, hidden it from them. No more mind wipes, no more manipulation. Enough was enough.

"You must go with us, Padawan, to the Jedi Temple on Coruscant. You must complete your training," said Master Vandar.

"Ever is the lure of the Darkside strong. To leave you as you are would be dangerous. The temptation to use that which you have been given for misguided causes will be great. You will need to be retrained with the use of the Force and come to understand the wisdom of patience. The Council will decide when you will be fit for Knighthood again." Another lecture from Master Vrook that made her both shamed and infuriated. He had to rub salt in the already raw wounds. "Both you and Bastila will seek to be atoned for your actions."

Atonement. That word meant a lot to her. So did pardon. So did retribution and redemption. Tradition was something she couldn't be bothered with anymore.

Her foot traced an indefinite shape in the sand. "How long will this take, Masters?" she had asked.

"As long as it has to," was Vrook's reply.

"Are we to be punished?" she folded her hands neatly in front of her. Her foot did not stop its motion. The doodle was coming into focus with a few more slow strokes. She stared passively at the Jedi before her.

"There is no punishment greater then knowing the full extent of the evil that has been done. A Jedi who has fallen and has been redeemed knows this well. You understand, do you not, Padawan?" answered Vandar.

"I do," she said quietly. "Its painful." Her foot drew several diagonal lines and then a circle.

"That is good to hear," replied the small master.

"We leave tomorrow. You, Bastila, Jolee and Juhani will travel with us. You may wish to make your good-byes soon. You have a lot to do, Padawan, may the Force be with you." Vrook and Vandar turned and began a slow walk back to a small tent that had been set up further along the beach for meditation purposes. She could find no rest there among the perfect examples of her Order.

"And with you, Masters." She returned back to the Ebon Hawk, leaving a diagram in the sand: the Star Forge.

Ebon Hawk

Very little was left for the hero to do. She smiled, she waved and stood under the burning hot sun as inspiration for the Republic Troops. She laughed at some Admiral's poor joke, cried when no one was watching and built sandcastles when she was given a moment's peace.

Peace was good. She liked peace. Peace let her plan her future and, ever the tactician, planning was something that she did well. Who would get the Ebon Hawk? She knew Carth would do it justice, but Carth wasn't going to pilot a smuggling ship. Mission could handle it, but Mission didn't know how to fly. Canderous did, but Canderous wouldn't look out for Mission and Zaalbar, or would he? Perhaps she could convince the Mandalorian to serve as a bodyguard and supporter for Mission. Smuggling, even though she had had a brief brush with it, wasn't any profession for a fourteen-year-old. At least, not spice smuggling. If Mission were to undertake, say, Jolee's former lifestyle, bringing food and medicine to worlds without them…well she didn't have a problem with that. She might even be allowed to help out.

Unlikely.

Another layer added, this time with four watchtowers. They would keep the invisible army at bay whilst the monarchs within prepared their troops for battle. The first few spires would be shattered, but within the reinforced walls of the castle they would be safe, she would be safe. She could retreat to the central spire, the last addition to the fortress, and she could outlast the siege. If the walls were broken and the guards slain, its towering height and narrowness would allow her to fight them off at the pinnacle. It would take them awhile to climb all the stairs, but once they reached her at the top of the stair well, they would tumble back down to the depths from where they started. She would push them back and they would press forward. It would be epic and glorious.

Her blades would dance around their flesh until there was nothing left of both attacker and victim. She would be consumed by the blood and ritual or continue until she was too tired to fight, until her arms refused to lift her lightsabers to block the parries and she fell…

…tumbling over the edge into an oblivion of winding shapes and shadows…

She awoke to the stars and the surf. She was wet and cool, if not a little briny. The fortress loomed next to her; it still stood despite the hours of wear it had taken at the hands of the sea. The spire's silhouette climbed up to the moon and she sighed contently. Finally, something she made that didn't crumble to dust around her! She admired it and was at ease. She had peace for the moment and prayed that it would last forever.

"Don't let me down," she commanded the castle. "If you crumble, then I do too."

The small fortress didn't respond. Perhaps it didn't have to.

(((((((((()::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::>

Mission tossed the small ball between her hands. It was morning and there had been no sign of Revan, no, Libra, all night. She hadn't returned from her walk the day before and needless to say, they were all a little worried. Things were getting tense, Mission couldn't deny that, but it was as if everyone had signed their own bounty contract. Really! Malak was destroyed and the Sith fleet was scattering to the Outer Rim. Wasn't everyone supposed to be happy? She had danced the night away during the Republic victory party, but everyone else had been less than enthusiastic. Carth and Libra had danced once and then hadn't looked at one another the rest of the night.

At first she had thought that perhaps it had been the food. The Rakatan fruit had been a little rich…but chalk it up to her instincts, there was something more to it. That's why she had waited all night for the Jedi to return home. She wanted answers, why there were no more playful banters or practical jokes. They had loved to do all that stuff, it kept them sane. It kept her happy and busy. No one would dare leave Mission Vao without something to occupy herself with!

Footsteps.

"You still out here, kid?"

Mission tossed the ball into the air once more. "Yeah, Carth. I just wanted to talk with her. Seems everyone's been in a real bad mood, you know? I just wish they'd lighten up. Jeez, we kill the Dark Lord, stop the war and now everyone is acting as if we've lost it."

The pilot nodded his head and took a seat next to the Twi'lek on the rock. "Everyone's been out of sorts lately. We're all feeling a little useless now that Malak's done with. I mean sure, the Sith are still out there, but its not as if they're threatening the Core Worlds anymore."

"What are you going to do?" asked Mission. The ball continued its ascent and descent in her hands.

"Well, Dodonna's been dropping hints for a few days, but she's finally going to make my promotion official. I don't know why they make such a fuss." Carth cracked his knuckles absently. "It's not as if it's any big event. They give me a few stripes and a ship…"

"But you're the big hero," piped Mission. "You're the heartthrob of the galaxy! All the busty cantina rats and brainless women are going to be all over you. First they'll start following you and the next thing you know, they'll be giving you declarations of love. Or they'll try and pawn their kids off on you. Or at least slip you a couple of drinks and then have you father their children."

Carth turned a soft shade of red. "Er…really?"

Mission shrugged. "Probably not. You're kinda old."

Carth gave a wistful smile, remembering a life he had led ten years previous. "Well, maybe too old for you, but at least there are some women out there who appreciate a little maturity in their man."

The Twi'lek rolled her eyes. "Get over yourself, you nerf herder. All they want is one thing. They think age means 'experience' if you know what I mean and I think you do!" The ball flew up and then fell back into a gloved hand.

"And how would you know anything about that?" spluttered the startled pilot.

"I got ears, you know!" Mission flashed him a grin. "Besides, you don't live on your own without picking up a few things."

"So you - "

"Hey!" Mission held up her hands in a defensive pose, "I didn't let you sit here to lecture me. Keep it to yourself, I don't need to hear it. All I want to do is wait for Libra to return. I don't know why you're out here."

"I'm here for the same reason you are," Carth nodded his head in the direction of an approaching figure.

"Libra," confirmed Mission.

"Yeah," sighed Carth.

Mission noted his forlorn look. "Hey, Carth, why don't you talk to her first, seeing as you're all mushy on her," suggested the blue scoundrel. She tossed the ball at Carth, but the pilot wasn't paying attention and it smacked him in the forehead.

Carth scowled, "its not…mushy. Well, maybe a little. But when you experience love, Mission, I'm sure you won't find it to be as bad as you've heard. Love is…well let me just say that you're missing out on something great."

Mission stuck out her tongue. "Ug! No way. Not me!"

Carth gave a chuckle, "get out of here, you. You may not want to see this."

"I'm going, I'm going," she replied before leaving.

Carth was given a few minutes to think out his plan of attack before Libra was in appropriate speaking distance. He noted her wet clothes and disheveled hair; he could smell the sea on her. "Hey there, gorgeous," he said. He wasn't lying, the salt and the sand made it appear as if she had just walked out of the sea to greet him; his own personal mermaid come to wish him a good morning.

She turned a weak smile on him.

"Oh no," groaned the pilot, "what have I done now?"

Libra shook her head and sat down next to Carth. Her body molded comfortably next to his. "You haven't done anything," was the quiet response. "I've just been thinking."

"Does it hurt?" he quipped back. Carth didn't mind the dampness of her form.

"Get any cuter and I'll replace you as my pet gizka."

Carth pondered her statement for a moment. "Does this mean you'll tie me up?"

Libra gave a mock gasp, "Mr. Onasi! Is that all you think about?"

He chuckled. "Heh, well you make it very hard for me to think about anything else." Noting her stare, Carth shook his head, "come on, I was kidding. This is worth much more than that."

Libra shifted uncomfortably. She didn't really know what to say; other things were more pressing than their budding relationship. She couldn't tell him that, but at least she could give him a hint. "I have to return to Coruscant with the Jedi," the blonde woman said. She gave her pilot a questioning glance. "They want to retrain me. Condition me."

Carth wrapped an arm around her shoulders and tried to give her a smile. "I kinda figured. When do you leave?"

Her foot started its idle tracing in the sand again. "In an hour."

"What?" Carth's grip became harder. "So soon? When did they tell you?"

Libra smiled, "yesterday." Doodle, doodle, doodle…

"And you've been gone all this time?" asked Carth. "Why not come back and tell us?"

The Jedi sighed and put her head on Carth's shoulder. "Because Bastila has most likely beaten me to the punch line. You know how it is with her, she wants everyone to know that the Council will see to it that we are no longer threats." She gave a slow exhale of breath. "Life's not fair. At least, not anymore." Then draw the circle and two diagonal lines…

Carth nodded his assent. "It would seem that way with us. I at least thought that you would travel with the rest of the fleet. I mean…damn it. I guess I should have expected this much." Carth placed a kiss on top of his partner's forehead. "I should be happy about everything, but I'm not. The Republic's going to promote me to Fleet Admiral, did you hear about it?"

Libra shook her head in the negative. "I didn't, but I'm very proud of you. I know you'll do remarkably well with the position. You're a good man, Carth, you inspire loyalty and trust." Two more strokes and there's the outline…

"But I don't give it, do I?" He smiled even though she couldn't see it. "I'll get my own ship, just like I had planned out. A bit late, but Saul still got his end." He paused, sheepish. "Errr…they'll probably send me out to help destroy the rest of the Sith Fleet." He was very quiet when he spoke again, "I guess that means we won't be seeing a great deal of one another." His hand fingered a lock of damp hair. He twined it about his finger and stroked its end; she hadn't cut her hair in a while.

"If the Council has anything to do with it, we'll never see each other again." Libra moved out of the embrace and leant forward. She rested her elbows on her knees. "I'll probably never see Mission or Canderous again either. Which reminds me," she turned her head towards the ship, "who gets the Ebon Hawk?" Mustn't forget the two straight lines for the partition…

Carth rubbed her back with one hand. "I'd give it to Mission, Zaalbar and the Mandalorian. They can come up with some handy schemes to keep themselves busy, Canderous can fly and Mission can do the negotiations. Zaalbar can handle the messier aspects of the business."

"No doubt he could." She stood. Her feet dug deeply into the sand. The drawing was now unrecognizable. "I need to go in and say my good-byes. Will you…will you see me off?" Though her face was calm, her voice broke, betraying her true feelings. No more Star Forge. No more purpose. Goodbye Freedom.

Carth took her hands in his, "I wouldn't miss it." He placed a gentle kiss on each before letting Libra leave.

Goodbye to happiness.