I'd nearly lost control.

This is what happens when the Force is back, I snapped internally at the old woman.

She said nothing, and her silence cooled my rage and fanned my own embarrassment.

I sighed and put the gun away, feeling foolish. I walked back to him, running my hands through my hair. "I apologize," I finally offered. "I have no idea where that came from."

He missed only half a beat.

"Well, as long as you unload on me in different ways too, I sure don't mind." He smiled at me wickedly as his eyes deliberately scanned my flesh once more.

It made me tired.

"I don't know where the people are…" I took a breath. His face changed somewhat. Pitying. But every flash of humanness gave away a multitude of disdain, lust, anger - fury even. He made me afraid.

"This facility seems abandoned," I finally said. "Know anything about that?"

"The miners can't all be gone…" He seemed stunned, as if he'd seen many Jedi and he'd never seen one quite like me. "But if they are…Hey, look. I can help you—I can."

"No one can help me," I said evenly. I approached him and looked right into his eyes. "Not even you."

"You don't know me," he offered uncomfortably.

"I know you're smooth-talking, and that's dangerous." I'd seen a million types like him before. His act was nothing new or even refreshing. Just old and tired. "I probably know you better than you want me to by now."

Suddenly, something dawned on him, and his features twisted in anger.

"Don't go in my head, Jedi!" he nearly shouted. "Stay away from my-!"

"I didn't go in your head, dammit!"

I'd taken a step away from his outburst, but my admission didn't cool his anger.

"Jedi aren't supposed to swear," he snapped sullenly.

"I am no Jedi," I said evenly, eyeing him down.

Politely, subconsciously, in a way that helped us both rather than invaded, I felt myself allow Kreia to "trip" through that wall of guilt of his. Though, I felt her then. Cold. Appraising. It could not be comfortable, and I yanked her back from him breathlessly with the feeble control that I had. But, in the retreat, I saw that he was overwhelmed with me. He drowned in me. The thought disturbed me. I walked back towards the door again, away and out of his life forever.

The motion silenced his disdain, as if his survival rested solely with me.

"I was just trying to say I saw your record on the computer." I scowled. He looked permanently stunned. "I don't use that, thank you very much — not unless I have to."

"Oh?" he spat. "And when is that?"

"When the children from my home village are being stabbed into the ground because I came from there," I said levelly. "When a man reaches for a friend and tries to rape her. When innocent lookalikes are being tortured to get to their masters that don't and have never existed." I laughed bitterly. "Some of them weren't even Jedi." I looked into his eyes distantly. "Not many people know that, you know?" I smirked again, feeling that sense of knowing without even knowing how. "But I bet you did, didn't you?"

With all of his other emotions—sadness, anger, surprise—there was…remorse.

"I don't use it often." I said emphatically. "I don't like being in two places at once. But I won't hesitate if my life is being threatened. Nothing more than my own safety could motivate me to manipulate somebody else. It's a hard call. Or it was, once."

Tell nothing more to the fool.

"Get OUT of my head!" I screamed.

You are in need of guidance. Your fear-

"If I am afraid, it is by my own head not yours." I shook my head violently. "I hate this."

Hate not the Force but will it.

"I don't feel the Force anymore." I snapped. "I don't want this—I don't want-,"

"But—is that possible?" Atton asked.

"What?" I asked. My eyes swam around.

"Not to feel the force anymore. Can you…can you do that?" He seemed afraid. "Once you feel it, I thought it was like a venereal disease. It doesn't go away."

"Nice," I said, upturning my mouth with disgust.

But when I glanced at him, I saw that he was earnest, fearful. He wasn't attempting to insult me. He even gave me a flash of guilt to struggle with, and then confusion, like he didn't know why being sacrilegious around me bothered him. He was testing the waters. While I was aware of his particularly disgusting type of vulgarity, I would have none of it. As it always had, it exhausted me, exasperated me. I was above it.

As was he.

"I thought once it was in you, you were poisoned with it."

I snorted bitterly.

"What you call poison others might call bliss."

"Whatever, what do you know of it? Are you the Jedi or not?"

"No, I am an exile of the Jedi Order."

"And how is that different?"

"Your questions reveal your ignorance, Rand," I said wearily.

Speak nothing more to the fool!

I shouted out, clasping my hands to my ears.

"Enough!" I whispered through clenched teeth. "I lost it for a reason! This isn't allowed!"

"You lost the Force?" he asked, almost breathlessly.

My voice shook.

"It…hurts," I whispered, a strange and desperate admission. I put a hand around my stomach and the other wearily on my forehead. "It hurts every second of every day now. They made it that way, I bet. To make me suffer. It's like…it's like making sight a painful sense, making touch rough, making light too bright, making hear too loud." He didn't know what to say. A true ring of pain panged through my head. I sighed. "But it doesn't really-,"

Speak nothing more to the fool!

"I do as I wish—you will not control me, demon." I scowled to her, hoping she could see it. "Try again and I will leave this station forever with you in it."

Your fears are foolish, indeed!

"If I am afraid, it is by my own head, not yours," I repeated.

"You're afraid?" Atton asked, blinking hard, like he was shocked. I heard his mocking tone. "But Jedi don't feel fear."

"You don't know the meaning of the word." I spat, turning to him as close as I allowed myself to dare.

"I think you'd be surprised."

"That you invoke it in others?" I asked, shrugging. "It couldn't matter less to me."

Speak nothing more to the fool.

I shuddered and swayed, realizing for the hundredth time that I was alone and yet I heard more than one voice within me. It was something I didn't miss. Something I wished I would continue not to miss.

I tried hard to remember. I blinked an extended blink struggling to shield myself from her, from everything, from Atton, especially from fear—but for nothing. I felt everything all at once at my attempt and I felt weaker than ever.

I put a hand to my chest and woke back to reality.

"I'm sorry," I said quietly. My voice shook. "She's, uh…she's in my…" I didn't know what to say. I felt nauseas. "We're…" I cleared my throat. The voices heard it and continued to hound me into coldness. "Let's hurry this up."

I shuddered and walked back over to the com. He watched me strangely, like he'd never seen my kind of Jedi before. I rolled my eyes. "I am not patient enough for you to analyze me, convict. And, you filthy, stinking nerf-herder, you better adjust your eyes pretty quick or I swear I will take yours."

It was the first time I saw his eyes. He was intimidated. I was pleased.

I shuddered again as Kreia's presence overwhelmed me. I threw a wall up, a familiar—if weak—wall, but it was effective for the time. I sighed with relief.

"There's another one here. A dying Jedi." The force cage flickered and then died. He was still silent, and he did not move, but the removal of a barrier between us caused electricity to spark in the room. I flinched almost violently, retracting and taking a step back, suddenly feeling nauseous and breathless. And he noticed, but he didn't act on it, even if his eyes spoke volumes again of what my reaction to lightning did to him.

All he said was,

"A little jumpy, huh?"

I nodded grimly.

"You don't know the half of it," I finally admitted.

I shook my head again, feeling good to have just me there.

"I would bet any amount of credits she's a Sith." My hand went to my hip to check if my sword was there. Then I rolled my eyes. Only a gun was there. How long had it been, and I still hadn't broken the habit?

"Ten years..." I found my mouth answering.

That amount of time was staggering.

"I hate Sith." I began to mutter to myself, struggling with the wall in my head and speech. I had never mastered it, even as a child. "Hate Jedi, hate Sith, hate the Force—dammit!"

You will not win, she said victoriously.

"But I will certainly try."

This sickens you. Why?

"It reminds me of harsher times," I responded aloud, completely unaccustomed to responding telepathically.

You should not try to shut me out-

"I shut you out when I want." I threw up a wall again, almost as if her words had provoked me into doing so, but it was weak and crumbly. "It's my head—not yours." I blinked hard and felt immediately better where before I felt feverish.

Why do you fight? Why do you feel sickness?

I leaned over a little.

"Hey, are you alright?" I heard him ask far off.

I felt bad, worse than I had in years.

Why let the sickness seduce you?

"I am not sick," I responded out loud. "I am not."

Does this remind you of murders you've committed?

"I am not a murderer!" I whispered menacingly. With a surge of extreme hate, a wall was up—a strong one. I looked over at Atton. He watched me intently, his brown hair falling into his face untouched. "I am no murderer…Do not judge me…"

He is below your opinion-

I pressed my hands to my temples hard, trying to remember.

"What is the technique? They told me—I know. The Sith use it…" I began to pace. "Remember now. Remember the Sith, remember, remember-,"

And, suddenly, I remembered where I was and that I should probably not speak of it in such a way. I kept my mouth to myself and thought again, chanting the same words but in my head, and, all at once, my mind felt clear, focused, and collected, but at a cost. I felt a great exhaustion inside of me that I was hardly able to acknowledge.

My hand went to my saberless hip once more. I could not think without it.

"I need a sword," I said to him, returning to reality. "Any sword—a stick. Anything." Then, I scowled, hating the gun there. "I hate guns, don't you?"

The question was antagonistic. I threw it to him wearily and walked by him. He glanced at me, confused, but I only put my hands up. I was sure instead of at them his eyes leered at the sway of my hips as I sauntered out before him.

"Shoot me in the back, I dare you!" I said, throwing up my arms. I almost willed him to, but no shots were fired. He jogged to catch up with me. I was disappointed. "I didn't think so."

I shuddered as I approached the computer. I turned to him, motioning towards the keyboard.

"You can help me, Mr. Rand. You can."

He immediately went to work. His persona was slowly returning, I could see it in the way his lopsided smile twitched around halfway.

"Must be hard being a Jedi, you know? No family, no kids, no husband-,"

"No harder than enduring your false sympathy while you're staring at my chest."

"Hey, I didn't mean to-,"

There was a buzz that silenced both of us and I flipped around to address it. When I saw what it was, I laughed harder than I had in a long time. "T3!"

He beeped at me dolefully.

"I know, I know." I searched the screen. "Just me. They're dead."

T3 made another sound, a sad sound.

"I know. I feel bad about it."

Then, his beeps turned up in a way I recognized.

"I don't remember Wild Space, T3."

A short beep, an urgent question.

"No, according to the cryo, I haven't seen him for a long time."

He beeped again.

"I don't know where he is, T3. I'm still a little confused."

And it was true.

I'd woken up in a Republic cruiser. They'd recovered my ship, the Ebon Hawk, with no one else inside, hailing Ramel from Wild Space. They said they'd revived me out of a month long sleep, according to the log. And what I'd been doing before that was get lost and get shot. I'd thought that I'd crashed landed somewhere where Basic language was a far off mystery, but I'd been lured there by the Ebon Hawk's signature - something I'd always looked out for...just in case he was there.

But he hadn't been. Just his ship. I'd had to fight to get to it. I tried hard to remember. It had been in the middle of the woods, lost, like he'd left it there specifically for me to find. Maybe he had. Maybe he'd been right there, waiting, hoping.

Getting there had only been half the battle. I'd fallen from my wounds once I'd locked myself inside. Locals must have discovered me - me and the ship.

They must have followed the emergency instructions in the kit in my ship marked as such. The locals must have been generous or compliant. Whichever, I felt some semblance of gratitude. I could have succumbed there to wounds.

It would have been a lonely way to die.

My instructions had said to return my body, and the ship, to the next living person in my detail from the war. Apparently, that had been Ramel. The rest must have died.

The aching I felt with that taunted me, and I put a hand to my heart, feeling my knees buckle.

T3 beeped worriedly.

"No, no, I'm fine," I lied quickly. "Just...a little tired, I guess."

He beeped again sadly.

"Of course you were expecting him." I rolled my eyes. "We all were…"