Mira watched quietly as the flames engulfed the body, sensing the tiny blip in the Force that the death had left behind. Around her, she felt Atton's concern for Shay, the Disciple's pensive remembrance, Visas' silent battle between satisfaction and grief, Mandalore's usual muddle of emotions tempered with an unusual overtone of sorrow, and the tight ball of emotion that radiated from the group of white clad women that stood apart from the crew of the Ebon Hawk. Mostly, though, she felt the overwhelming tide of anguish through her bond with Shayla—the Exile, her friend.

Mira knew that all of the Force users around her could feel that rush of emotion, though the Jedi herself remained stoic. Mira knew that it was Shayla who told the Telosian medics to go to the empty academy at the pole to find Atris. It was Shayla that had spared her life on the planet's surface. It was Shayla who had visited Atris, Shayla who had tried to save her. Shayla who had insisted that she receive a Jedi's funeral. She had been found hanging from the ceiling of her room in the medical bay, and a part of Mira thought her corpse deserved to be spaced for all the pain she had caused Shayla. Part of her hated the fact that this woman who had wanted them all dead received a true funeral, while Bao-Dur was left behind on Malachor V, his remains doomed to float through the cold vacuum of space with the remnants of that cursed place. Mira was afraid of that part of her.

Time passed, the flames died down. Nothing but ash was left behind, ash and that tiny blip in the Force. The silence was overwhelming, and she was grateful when Mandalore was the first to turn and leave. She followed him quietly, wanting to escape this scene of death to find herself a stool in a crowded cantina so she could drown herself in the white noise of life. Apparently, Mandalore had similar plans.

He sat down at the bar and took off his helmet, exposing his scarred face to the world, an occurrence that was becoming more and more common. He ordered Correllian Whiskey, Mira only an ice water.

"Why come to a bar for a glass of water?" the older man asked, his thick arms leaning against the counter in front of him.

"Atmosphere," she replied. Mira didn't drink—she didn't like the way it clouded her senses. She wanted to feel the life around her, not become numb to it.

"I never met her," Mandalore said, staring into his drink. There was no question to whom he was referring.

"Me either."

"All I know about her is that she caused a hell of a lot of trouble for us." The Mandalorian sighed and took a deep swig of his drink. Mira was suddenly struck by how old he looked, how empty. She wondered if she looked the same now. Not old, but empty. She certainly felt empty. Wasn't the Force supposed to fill her, not drain her? Wasn't she supposed to find purpose on their journey?

"Shay really wanted a Jedi's funeral for her. Something must have happened back at the Academy."

"Yeah, and she's not telling any of us what it was."

"Shay loves her secrets." Mandalore snorted at his companion's comment, shaking his head.

"That one's a better Jedi than she likes to admit."

"Tell me about it." Silence fell between the two of them, and Mira closed her eyes, feeling the life around her. The air was saturated with alcohol and gambling and sex—staples in the great rhythm of life. These people were celebrating, they were mourning, they were trying to forget and trying to remember. They had futures and goals and lives. Mira sank into the sheer normalcy of the place. In that way, she missed hunting. It was a job, just like everybody's got. If she wasn't a hunter anymore, what was she? There weren't any Jedi, no matter how much Mical tried to wish them into existence. And even if there were, the thought of spending the rest of her life teaching children to wield a force that she wasn't sure was benevolent didn't appeal to her in the slightest.

She knew that the cantina she sat in wouldn't exist without her. She knew that she had helped save entire planets, if not the Galaxy. At the very least, she aided the Republic. And yet, she felt empty, like the journey itself had ripped out any purpose that her life had held. Or maybe it just made her painfully aware of the fact that she never truly had a purpose. It all amounted to the same thing—Mira was lost, and the only way she knew how to deal was to try desperately to forget.

"You okay, kid?" Mandalore asked, concern coloring his gravelly voice.

"I'm fine," she replied, old walls throwing themselves up at the question. It scared Mira that they came back so easily. Old habits die hard, she guessed. The thought left a bitter taste in her mouth.

She sighed, looking at her nearly full glass. "She's leaving, you know."

"Who, the Exile?"

"Yeah."

"I figured. Now that the bitch is dead, she won't stick around for very long. Hell, she might even be gone now."

"Not yet. I can still feel her on the station. She blocks us a lot now, but it's harder for her when she's in pain—physical or emotional. Right now, she's dealing with both."

"It won't be long now, in any case. You thought about what you're going to do when she takes off?"

"Mical and Visas want me to help them rebuild the Jedi Order." Actually, Visas had cornered her and told her that "the Force had a plan for all of us" and that Mira needed to "do her part." Mira told her to shove it.

"You don't sound too excited."

"Well, what we've seen of the Jedi hasn't been exactly flattering."

"I've met a few decent ones," Mandalore said, a hint of amusement creeping into his expression. Mira looked at him in surprise—she didn't think he was referring to anyone that she had encountered. "In fact, I can probably locate at least one of them for you. Probably two, maybe three."

"You know of the whereabouts of three separate Jedi?" Mandalore grinned as he took another swig of the whiskey.

"Not really. I've been a little disconnected from the old crew. But I know a couple of people who are bound to know. You interested?" Mira tried to control her excitement. She liked this idea—it was like a hunt, which appealed to her, and it would keep Mical and Visas off her back.

"Yeah, I think I am," she said, leaning forward slightly and taking a sip of her water.

"I thought you would be. You may not be a Mandalorian by blood, but you certainly are in spirit."

"High praise, Mandalore."

"I tell the truth. Now, if you want to find your Jedi, you should go to Coruscant and find a blue twi'lek named Mission Vao. She lives a couple of kilometers west of the Senate District—here, I'll give you her apartment number." Mira watched with interest as the Mandalorian took out a blank data pad and entered the information. He slipped the data pad to her and Mira pocketed it. "Tell her that Canderous Ordo sent you to find Little Blue. Ask about Jolee Bindo—I'm almost certain the old man still checks up on her."

"Not the Jolee Bindo that Mical went on and on about that night on our way to Korriban?"

"The very same."

"You keep very interesting company," Mira said, finishing her water and taking out a credit chip for the bartender. She hated to take up space on a bar and leave without paying for anything. Besides, she was eager to get out of there and start her hunt. She could feel that familiar itch for finding her target, she had slipped back into her hunting space—she was more aware, more focused. It was like the Force, but there was a direction to it, a purpose. Mira almost grinned.

"If she doesn't know, you can find me on Dxun. Hell, if you decide Jedi are too much trouble, you can come join us. We could use a warrior like you."

"Thanks, Mandalore. I'm really glad you decided to have a whiskey today."

"No problem. And remember—Dxun," he growled and walked away. Mira practically skipped back to her apartment. There were plans to make, a ship to catch, things to pack. Mira stayed up later than she should have scribbling down notes and researching her target.

When she finally woke, she stretched and rolled her shoulders before she realized that something was wrong. She could no longer feel the dull ache of Shayla's injuries. Her mouth fell open in shock as a single though ran through her head. Shayla is gone.