3959 BBY

She huddled against the wall, her matted hair clinging to her head in clumps. Around her the darkness was absolute. She only knew where she was relative to the wall. So she pressed her body against it and listened for the telltale "click-click" of hive rate teeth. In one hand she held a wickedly sharp piece of metal, blood coated the makeshift blade, both human and animal.

Once it would have been as simple as closing her eyes and feeling the space around her for life.

Now the darkness in her head was as thick as the cloying blackness around her. Down the alley somewhere a man cursed loudly as he stumbled, his glowrod illuminating her patch of darkness for the briefest of moments. He didn't see her, but he didn't hear the hive rats either.

He cried out in sudden fear, having spotted one of the monsters at the edge of his light.

The blackness whispered to leave the lost man to his fate, and Meetra stayed crouched against the wall, rocking back on her heels indecisively.

His cry of fear turned to agony as one of the creatures tore into him with its powerful jaws.

Meetra Surik tightened her grip on the piece of metal and with an inhuman snarl launched herself between the swarming predators and the lost man.


His clothes were way too big for her, and he'd had to shave her head to get rid of the filthy matted mess. She sat in his apartment like an emaciated ghost while the mechanic launched questions at her. Where was she from? What was she doing in the sub levels? How long had she been there? Why did she save him? Did she want more food?

That was the only question she answered, greedily shoving her bowl back across the table.


Present - 3957 BBY

Meetra reached for the door- images of a sonic shower, some food and her bed dancing through her tired brain. Before she could get that far though, Zaen stepped in front of her, looking intently at the as-of-yet nameless kitten. "Don't let that thing get into anything before it's been through the sonic." He palmed the security panel, and the door slid open.

"I mean it, Kara. If I wake up covered in duracrete fleas, that cat is gonna become dinner." The Exile nodded mutely, which seemed to satisfy him for the moment. With a huff, the large man stalked into their shared home, leaving his bemused roommate trailing behind him.

Zaen had to turn sideways to fit through the entrance hallway, and even Meetra only had a few inches of clearance on either side of her shoulders. Space was at a premium on Coruscant, and it showed. The hallway opened up to a cramped interior, with mismatched pieces of furniture scattered about. She toed off her boots, her hole-riddled socks offering little protection from the sudden chill of the worn floor.

Moving through the cramped kitchen, Zaen shoved the table away from the wall to clear a path large enough to walk through into the next room. Meetra followed right on his heels into the living area. From there she inched around the sofa, and into the hallway that led to the refresher.

They were fortunate to have their own, even if the sink only had cold water that smelled like a swamp, and the sonic shower had a tendency of cutting out. Many people in the undercity had to make do with communal, or pay-by-the-minute fresher units, especially in the oldest buildings that still had water showers. Clean water was a valuable commodity. Hot clean water was all but unheard of down here.

Behind her, the sofa groaned as Zaen settled down onto it, dropping his tool bag unceremoniously on the floor with a clang. Un-bothered, he reached to turn on the holo— seemingly oblivious to the furniture's supports protesting his every movement. Meetra snorted, shaking her head as she watched him. It'd been like that since she moved in. One day the whole kriffing thing was going to come crashing down, probably while she was sitting on it. A smile twitched across her lips at the mental image.

Zaen looked up from his Holo program, catching his roommate's vacant stare. "Credit for your thoughts?" The man smirked, calling Meetra back to reality, and chuckling when she blushed. Zaen did not fail to note the distant look that lingered on her face even after she'd returned to the present though.

"It's nothing." The woman lied smoothly, knowing full well he didn't buy it. "I should..." She murmured, tilting her head towards the door.

"Just don't leave any cat hair in the damn Sonic."

Meetra laughed, finally slipping into the 'fresher and closing the door behind her.

When Meetra re-emerged, the gritty grey kitten was no longer gritty grey. Now white with orange spots, she slunk out the door with her tail puffed up, none too happy about the humiliating experience she'd just endured. Zaen watched her come into the living room, seemingly satisfied with the cleanliness he witnessed. His brown eyes wandered up to his roommate, a question on his lips. It died there though, as the man took in Meetra's disheveled appearance. Her copper hair stuck up in places, from the cat attempting to climb her, and there was a series of scratches on her face and hands. After a long moment of gaping at her he burst into a set of stifled coughs, that she imagined was actually tactfully controlled laughter.

"I take it she didn't agree with the sonic." The man let out with a laugh, the sound echoing loudly in the small room. Meetra glowered, dabbing at her bloodied cheek with the back of one equally bloodied hand.

"To put it mildly."

"You can tell everyone you fought a savage Wookie with your bare hands."

"I'd never tell people you're a savage." Meetra shot back, flopping down next to her friend, wincing as the sofa trembled under their combined weight. After a tense moment, it seemed like the threadbare piece of furniture would in fact hold, and the woman tucked her feet under her. In all honesty she couldn't blame the kitten for feeling so strongly against sonic showers. She didn't like them much either. In comparison to an actual water shower, a sonic was pretty sub par. They just didn't feel as clean. There was something to be said for hot water, it was soothing in a way that sonic vibrations could never match. How long had it been since she'd had a real shower? Six years? Seven? Maybe more. Sighing, the Exile nestled down— watching the kitten clamber into Zaen's lap out of the corner of her eye.

Big softie.

Turning her attention back to the holo, Meetra's brows rose- green eyes cutting across to Zaen. "The Galactic News?" She queried. "Since when do we watch the news?"

In the two years she'd lived with the man, she could count the number of times they'd watched the news on one hand— and still have a couple of fingers to spare. What happened out there...didn't matter here. Coruscant was both a safe haven, and a prison. Undercity residents tended to be refugees, fleeing destruction. Both human and aliens were subject to the same fate once they reached the sparkling planet. Without the credits to stay on the surface, they vanished from sight into the depths of Republic City. Once they were out of the immediate view of the upworlders it was easy for them to be forgotten, and crime ran rampant in the lowest levels. Once you were in the lower city, it was difficult to get out. The fact you were a lower city citizen often barred you from upper city jobs, transport off world wasn't cheap, and you had to have paperwork to travel between the upper and lower cities.

It was a desolate situation for millions.

"Have to check in on the war effort occasionally." Zaen joked, though his good humor looked forced. Meetra grimaced and bit her lip but didn't object, turning her attention back to the news anchor in front of her.

Images of destruction flashed one after the other— a planet that was glowing with fire, large sections of the atmosphere blackened by smoke, an all too familiar sight. Orbiting the planet, evacuation vessels drifted aimlessly, some with gaping holes clearly visible.

Meetra couldn't breathe. It was just like a year ago. Just like Telos IV.

"The outer rim planet of Iridonia has been devastated by former Jedi Revan and Malak's Sith forces." Meetra's entire body stiffened, dread making her stomach churn. Another world. Force. Revan was attacking another world.

She didn't want to see any more.

"Please turn it off." Meetra breathed, looking away from the holoscreen.

She'd seen enough blood and death to last her a lifetime.

Zaen grunted his agreement and the holoscreen went dark abruptly.

Meetra continued to look at the floor, lost in her own world.

How could Revan be doing this? They'd gone to war to stop the death. That was the entire reason she'd joined the Mandalorian War. It had been a nightmare, but necessary. All of those people at Malachor V. Every sacrifice, every terrible choice that led to her soldiers and fellow Jedi dying by the hundreds...

And then to turn around and attack the Republic, after everything they had fought for together. It made her want to shrivel up and die. Those people on Malachor V had died for nothing. Her friends had died for nothing.

She felt cold. It was like someone had dropped her in a pool of ice. She didn't know what she'd been expecting. Meetra knew about Telos, she'd seen the destruction. She'd seen the feeble efforts of the Republic to try to evacuate as the planet burned, and then later had watched as the Galactic news reported the death toll to be in the hundreds of millions. She wasn't a stranger to war and death.

But...

It was Revan.

It was nearly impossible for her to reconcile a man who murdered millions of innocents with the same man who knew how much sugar she liked in her caf, who had kissed her like he needed it to survive when she'd returned from Dxun, muddy and exhausted.

How could she have let this happen? Why didn't she stop him when she'd had the chance? Why didn't she stand her ground at Malachor V?

"I need that drink." Zaen murmured, rising and dumping the kitten off his lap. He was halfway to the door by the time she pulled herself together enough to stand.


The cantina was easily the most lively business in this district. Meetra imagined that every district was like that. It seemed no one had anything better to do than come down to the cantina to drink, and play pazaak when the day was done. Zaen held the door open for her, letting her slip in from the poorly lit exterior, to the even more poorly lit interior. Ducking through a gaudy curtain, the Exile paused for a moment. Something seemed off somehow. Around her, all sorts of aliens and human species alike crowded at the bar, laughing and hollering in a multitude of languages. Others sat in booths lining the walls, daring to eat here. Several Twi'lek and human women skulked around the edges of the room in outfits that showed more skin than they covered. She could smell death sticks faintly, the rancid sweet scent made her stomach roil. Short of murder, almost anything went in the undercity. Drugs, prostitution and possibly slavery all out in the open like this was not a new phenomenon.

Realizing she'd lost sight of Zaen, the woman stood on her toes, peering around the room. Damn it. Around her voices buzzed, making the former Jedi uneasy. Four years ago, she would have been able to sense if there was someone sneaking up on her with a blaster in hand. Now... well, she relied on being overly paranoid.

She twisted around once more, still not seeing her roommate.

Kriff.

Meetra wasn't particularly worried about losing the man, but she needed someone to keep her mind off of the fact that Iridonia was under Sith bombardment while she was busy having a drink in a Cantina.

Maybe if she drank enough it would keep the guilt at bay.

She stood on her toes once more, peering into the corners of the room. Zaen seemed to know everyone, so it was entirely possible he'd been pulled into a booth to chat.

The only booth she couldn't get a clear view of from where she was standing was the corner booth across the room. It was dark and partially obscured by a group of rowdy human men. Gingerly she picked her way through the crowd, closer.

There in the booth was a man and a woman, deep in conversation. Not Zaen. Meetra sighed heavily, beginning to turn away.

Her stomach roiled, freezing her in place. She stopped, leaning forward to take a closer look.

At the woman's waist she could just barely make out the metal cylinder of a lightsaber hilt. Now that her full attention was on the pair, she could see a padawan braid in the young woman's dark hair. It was a Jedi padawan and her master. As if today wasn't bad enough already.

Meetra wanted to throw herself into the nearest cluster of people, but managed to regain enough of her composure to stop herself. That would just draw a massive amount of unwanted attention. Maybe they wouldn't even notice her. After all, she'd had near misses with Jedi in the past. It was fine.

She began to back away, unable to take her eyes off the padawan. She couldn't see the master's face but she sent up a silent prayer to whatever powers might still be looking out for her that it wasn't a master she knew. Meetra liked her life, it wasn't glamorous but she was happy. The Jedi would drive her off planet if they knew she was still here. Living outside Republic space forever was inconceivable. She'd never known anything but the Republic.

All she had to do was get back to the bar. All she had to-

Double Kriff.

So slowly it was almost like watching it happen in slow motion, the man turned towards her. It was a deliberate turn, his shoulders and torso turning until he was looking back to where she was standing, frozen.

Meetra couldn't move. She was standing there, stock still like a little sand lizard caught in the gaze of a Krayt dragon.

He was looking at her- so intently that it was almost like he was looking through her.

Hazel eyes met green, and Meetra felt her stomach clench in nervous warning. She wanted to sink through the floor.

As suddenly as it began, it was over. The Padawan said something to the man and he peeled his gaze away to answer her.

Meetra immediately retreated backwards into the press of people around the bar, no longer interested in searching the perimeter of the place for Zaen. Luckily, she was pretty certain that she didn't know that Jedi. Nothing should come of this.

That didn't stop her skin from crawling though.

Spotting her friend at the bar, Meetra made her way quickly to his side. Upon getting closer, she began to catch tidbits of the conversation. She threw a furtive glance behind her, looking for any sign of the Jedi.

"You should see her face." Zaen laughed, winking at a thoroughly enchanted, and reasonably attractive human woman. "I thought we were goners for sure."

Meetra snorted, allowing herself to be drawn into the light-hearted conversation.

She really couldn't take him anywhere.

Sliding into the seat next to him, the Exile motioned the barkeep. There was nothing about the alcohol in the undercity that was good. In fact, to drink it one almost had to already be drunk. A challenging little problem. Zaen didn't seem to share her opinion of the local swill— knocking a drink back with a disturbing amount of ease.

She glanced over her shoulder one more time, but was unable to even see the corner booth, much less the man in it. It was fine. The Exile took a deep breath before flashing a smile at their small audience and Zaen.

"So what did you save me from this time?" Meetra leaned in to ask her cohort under her breath.

"Hive rat." The man answered, gesturing to the cat scratches on her face and beaming at the human woman he was flirting with, who seemed reasonably impressed by this infallible evidence.

"That's getting a bit used isn't it?"

"If it ain't broke…"

"Fair enough."


The next several hours were spent relating the day's adventure, with some pretty heavy liberties taken by both parties. The more of an audience they accumulated, the more grand an adventure it'd been. At one point, Meetra may have even wrestled a savage Wookie into submission.

Despite all the laughter, and even a drink or two, the woman couldn't shake her feeling of dread. She caught herself continually checking over her shoulder, and peering into the darkest corners of the bar. Between her near miss with the Jedi and her unrelenting thoughts of Revan, she was completely unable to relax. The booth where she'd seen the padawan had been empty for more than two hours now, but she was still incredibly uneasy. "Zaen." She murmured, as their audience began to disburse. Slightly intoxicated, her companion looked at her quizzically. "I think we should go home." The former Jedi continued, glancing about once more. Something just wasn't right. It tugged at the edges of her awareness, frustratingly vague. The woman brushed her hair back out of her face, restlessly fidgeting as she leaned against the bar.

"Like a wife." Zaen muttered theatrically— earning a chuckle from the bartender and a sharp look from his companion. "Exactly." He continued, pointedly. With a breathy laugh, the mechanic rose from his seat, dropping a couple of credits on the bar, and giving the barkeep a long—suffering look. Meetra snorted impatiently at his show, earning laughs from several of the remaining customers.

"Fine, fine. I'm coming." Zaen placated, following his room mate as she swept from the cantina. He caught up to her easily once they were outside- his longer legs closing the distance that her haste had created. "Where's the fire?" He joked, letting the door fall shut behind him.

"It's nothing." She lied, peering down towards the walkway beneath theirs. Overhead the lights flickered, buzzing monotonously. The sound reminded her of a swarm of barbflies, a constant resonating buzz. There was never silence in the undercity. The only time anything was quiet was when you'd lived here long enough to tune out everything but the unfamiliar. The distant roar of the great machines, the hum of electrical circuits, the groan of buildings the size of mountains... it all started to sound like nothing after a while.

Zaen's eyes followed hers for a moment, noting that a few of the lights looked a bit more dim than he'd like— before he looked back to Meetra. "That's the second time you've said that tonight." The man pointed out. "It obviously is something."

The Exile winced, knowing she'd brought it on herself. The more time she spent with anyone, the more lies there were. The bigger the web got, the easier it was to get tangled up in it. What was she supposed to tell him? That Telos IV was burning because of something she could have stopped? That if she was a Jedi worth anything, she would have felt Revan taking the wrong path, and she would have stopped it?

A sigh pulled from Meetra's lips, her green eyes rising to meet Zaen's. "I'm sorry." She said, reaching to touch his shoulder. He stiffened under the pads of her fingers. "Iridonia." A lie, but the closest she could get to the truth. "All those people." That she was responsible in part for. "It's so..." The woman trailed off with a helpless shrug.

"Unnecessary." Zaen ground out, finishing the thought that she'd left hanging. Meetra nodded mutely in response, pausing to wait for him to clamber across a particularly rickety walkway before following close behind. The metal groaned beneath her weight, making her all too conscious of how heavy and slow she felt without the Force.

"The Sith are winning this war." The mechanic continued, starting down a set of stairs, his boots clanging on the plasteel beneath his feet. He was more graceful than she, knew this district of the undercity like the back of his hand. A thousand times over he'd pointed out some danger that she'd not noticed. A hole in a walkway, a broken support beam, a ladder with rusted rungs. It all made her feel so very helpless. "And the Republic's precious Jedi flock to the Sith by the dozens, or worse— do nothing." Zaen scoffed, not noticing Meetra tense. It was a commonly held view, after all. The Jedi had waited too long to get into the Mandalorian War, and then those who had gone, had turned and attacked the Republic.

Meetra couldn't say she blamed people for their distrust. She couldn't blame Zaen. What had the Jedi ever done for him down here?

Above them, the walkways twisted and wound, ever higher. She knew that somewhere above them, there was a ceiling of sorts. Closer to the surface, there were enclosed levels, instead of rickety walkways, stairs and tunnels. What she wouldn't give to be able to look up and see even a sliver of sunshine coming down. Instead all she saw was rows of artificial light, eventually plunging into murky darkness.

"No one is perfect, Zaen." It was said as nonchalantly as she could manage, the subject a tired one between the friends.

"Don't tell me you're defending them."

"I'm not. But no one is perfect. The Jedi have served the Republic for centuries." She shot back, crossing her arms over her chest.

"I'm telling you Kara, those people are bad news. All of them. They're ticking time bombs, and when they explode, they go evil and try to destroy the Galaxy. We've seen it over, and over and over."

"You're wrong."

The pair fell into awkward silence- both parties thoroughly annoyed. The only sound for the next several minutes was the soft clunk of their boots against the walkway as it turned into from plasteel to duracrete. Zaen opened the door into their building without a word, letting it slam closed behind her. Ahead of her he stiffened, looking back exasperatedly at her and then down the hall again. She followed his gaze, her eyes widening.

"Maow."

They both stared for a long moment at the tiny creature as it trotted towards them. Meetra blinked in confusion.

"I can't believe this shit." Zaen snapped as the familiar orange spotted kitten wound around his feet. "Doors don't keep people out if you leave them unlocked, Kara!" The man seethed, storming towards their apartment, his blaster already in his hands. Leaping forward Meetra reached out, catching a hold of his shoulder. He tried to shake her off but she tightened her fingers, keeping him from going any farther.

"Zaen." Meetra hissed insistently. "I swear to you, I locked the door."

"Apparently not, if someone just waltzed in and-" He was cut off by the woman shushing him. The kitten wound around his ankles, it's furry tail puffed up in obvious agitation. "Kar-" He started again, nudging the kitten away with his foot. It shouldn't be out here, not unless someone had been in their apartment.

The Exile was already creeping down the hall, her blaster drawn. It wasn't her preferred weapon of choice, but a lightsaber was a tricky thing to handle without the Force to guide her. Not to mention, extremely attention drawing. The number one thing she'd learned in her first year after losing her connection to the force was to never act like a Jedi. Not when she couldn't defend herself like one.

Mostly though, she just preferred not to cut her own arm off.

Vaguely she was aware of Zaen joining her, his own weapon still at the ready. Her sole focus was on what might be waiting around the bend in the hall. Everything was eerily silent, making her hair all but stand on end. Together, the pair rounded the corner.


Jaq was livid.

He'd been foiled by a kriffing kitten, of all things. It was a bit of a blow to the ego.

He'd asked around about the woman from the bar after he'd made sure that his padawan guest wasn't leaving any time soon. It hadn't taken very long. The going price for the name and home address of a cute redhead was only a couple credits.

What a deal.

One of the many perks of working with the extremely impoverished. It didn't take days of skulking around in the shadows of this cursed shithole to get information. No, if you had the credits the information would practically come crawling to you.

Kara Soran, he'd been told. He hadn't found anything particularly interesting in any of the databases on anyone with that name, but he hadn't really dug that deeply. Yet. Still, it irritated him. The apartment had been a bust too. It was utilitarian and small, with nothing that indicated anything out of the ordinary. Honestly the only thing he'd gleaned was that they were seriously lacking in a sense of balanced interior design.

Part of him wanted to wait for her to come home. He licked his lips, moving quickly through the hallways of the apartment complex. They would be here any minute, most likely. He wasn't worried about the man. A middle-aged mechanic wasn't a threat. He paused, almost turning back. It wouldn't take long… And then he would know…

No.

She was not his assignment. The dark haired man smirked to himself. No. His assignment was just a littleeeee bit tied up at the moment. She would be too busy to get back to the Jedi temple for the foreseeable future, or… well, ever. The job had been too easy. Two days was practically a record. He hadn't even had to try! An angry young padawan who had no experience in dealing with male attention? A lonely, rebellious young padawan who was dealing with the trauma of her Master's death via alcohol? Slipping a sedative into the drink he'd bought her had been so, so simple.

There was something off about this woman though, he'd known it the moment he locked eyes with her in the bar. Normally he probably wouldn't have looked twice. Sure, she was pretty.

Red hair, leggy…

Okay, so mayyybeeee he would have looked twice. However, feeling like his stomach had dropped out prompted him to really look. Jaq was certain she hadn't even noticed him at first, but he'd noticed her from the moment she walked in. And then she'd turned those big green eyes on him. They'd locked gazes for a long moment, and he knew.

She was hiding something.

The way she'd stared at the Jedi padawan and then dropped her gaze to the floor. The way she'd immediately sought out her companion and tried to vanish from Jaq's view in the press of bodies at the bar. She'd done nothing to warrant his attention, and everything to warrant his attention, all at the same time.

After years and years of hunting Jedi he'd learned to trust his gut. And his gut said something was strange about her.

He would have still had the upper hand, if that stupid feline hadn't darted out around his feet while he was leaving and tipped them off that someone had been in their apartment. He'd been tempted to shoot the thing and be done with it, but killing kittens was a bit above his pay grade. He smirked to himself. He would leave the killing of cute baby animals to the Sith.

Jaq sighed; glancing over his shoulder toward where he knew the pair would be coming from. It wasn't worth it. He wasn't willing to risk jeopardizing his actual assignment over a hunch. No, it wouldn't do to let them come at him, blasters already drawn.

There would be plenty of time to catch the woman alone, if he wanted to. Then they could sit down for a nice, long, talk. And she would tell him whatever her secret was, so that he could get it off his mind. Maybe he'd even let her live.

Probably not.

Jaq smiled to himself as he breezed out of the building, letting the outside door to the apartment complex slam shut behind him. He'd deal with it later. Right now he had a padawan to attend to.


"There's no one here, Kara." Zaen grumbled, for the fourth or fifth time.

"I'm not blind." The Exile snapped back, more harshly than she really intended, as she stalked around the small apartment. She was meticulously taking in everything, every article of clothing, every pillow, every dish in their sink… It all looked as she remembered, and the woman found herself agitated and unnerved that she couldn't actually tell if someone had been in here.

Zaen settled himself down on his bed after making a cursory check of the apartment, and the hiding spots where they kept valuables. When nothing was missing or seemed to be out of place, the big man quickly relaxed and started getting ready for bed. He was now absentmindedly scratching the kitten's ears and watching his roommate tear around the tiny room. He yawned widely-still mildly buzzed, and ran his hands through his salt and pepper hair. "She probably just got out when we left, and we didn't notice. No one would break in and not touch anything."

Meetra sighed, conceding his point. They'd been robbed in the past, multiple times. This was nothing like that. Nothing seemed out of place, it was exactly as she remembered. "You're probably right." She replied, with conviction she didn't feel. It was probably the alcohol that had her so edgy.

Her stomach roiled with unease, but Meetra tramped it down. Everything was fine. She sat down on her bed. Across the room Zaen was already in bed, the kitten resting on his pillow. Meetra smirked, earning her a glare from her roommate, but the large man didn't protest the animal's presence.

Toeing off her boots and pulling on the cleanest smelling nightshirt she could find, Meetra reached over to turn off the light.

"Night Zaen."

"Mmmmmhm." Came a rumble from the other side of the room

She scoffed, pulling the covers up to her chin.


Author's note: Here is a timeline for your and my sake!

Battle of Serroco: 3963

Battle of Malachor V: 3960

Jedi Exile's Trial: 3960

Destruction of Telos: 3958

Revan Maims Malak: 3957

Start of KoTOR: 3956