Chapter Two
The Misanthrope and the Musician

There was perhaps no more likable figure in the Academy than Kasari Lisae. She was one of the most gifted students there, yet was by and far the most humble. She would shirk away from praise regularly, insisting that her accomplishments were "no big deal." Her instructors often conceded that her maturity was far beyond her years. In short, she was simply a pleasure to work with.

When Master Skywalker had informed her that she had been selected to accompany a Jedi Knight into the field, she simply said that the task was an honor to her. Deep within her, however, she was ecstatic to finally be tested in the field. She was close to finally attaining the rank of Jedi Knight, and she knew it. With any luck, this would finally push her over the top. Until then, she would have to find the Jedi who selected her and properly thank him.

She stopped in front of one of the single-occupant dormitory rooms, reserved for Jedi Knights. The plate above the door red "221B," and below it the occupant's name, "Darvix Zorvan." That was the Jedi Master Skywalker summoned earlier, she said to herself. He seemed to have been an odd man, but she couldn't quite place her finger on exactly what was wrong with him. No matter, that could wait for another day. Smiling to herself, she keyed the door-chime.

***

Darvix found himself lost in thought as his fingers gracefully worked over the keys of his grand keybed, an instrument he learned to play years ago. Before he fled his home world of Nar Shaddaa, he had trained to become a musician. There was a point in time where he had enjoyed performing for others, but those days were long behind him. Now he played to distract himself from the galaxy around him, and when that didn't work…

He sighed to himself and rubbed his temples. His mind was a mess off thoughts thanks to his meeting with Skywalker. Wedge had summoned him for help, to fight another battle that wasn't his to fight. Darvix had left Rogue Squadron for good six months earlier, and he had no intentions of returning to face his former squad mates. Unfortunately, those intentions didn't matter at this point. He had a task to accomplish, but the task would require him to do something he had avoiding for a long time.

After the Republic's success at the Bilbringi system over Reyov Naolin's fleet, Darvix found himself in a bacta tank. In a fit of rage, he had tailed an Imperial pilot to the planet's surface, downing his ship. The pilot had survived the wreck, but Darvix was determined to end his life there. He landed and approached the pilot, but just as he was about to strike down the Imperial with his lightsaber, he was confronted by his mentor, a Jedi and Rogue named Corran Horn. Darvix had been consumed by the Dark Side, feeling the need to slay the pilot for personal revenge, but Horn wouldn't allow it. Darvix could vaguely remember what had happened during the duel with Horn, but one detail always emerged to haunt him. As Darvix lost his balance, Corran's lightsaber came at his face, slicing through his cybernetic eyes and leaving him completely blind.

Darvix shook his head. He was thinking too much of the past, and it was starting to bother him. He often told himself that his life was a mess as it was; thinking about the past would only throw him into a faster tailspin. As he tried to refocus on the instrument in front of him, he found that his thoughts were too jumbled. He couldn't seem to get his fingers to cooperate with him. Suddenly he found himself at a point where music wouldn't take his mind off of his thoughts. He stretched out with the Force, searching for a case that held what he was looking for. He 'saw' it lying atop the keybed, right where he had left it.

He opened the case and withdrew a vial of clear liquid as well as an epidermic syringe. Hastily, he filled the syringe with the fluid, exceeding the dosage that most would consider "safe." Darvix lifted up his shirt sleeve and thrust the needle into his arm, depressing the plunger to inject the fluid into his system. He let out a soft sigh as, almost immediately; the illegal Spice began to kick into his system. The familiar mild euphoria the Spice provided pushed his troublesome thoughts to the back of his mind, allowing him to finally relax.

It was just at that moment the door-chime rang. Darvix cursed and stood up, walking to the door. He was tempted to grab his old service blaster, just to scare off whoever was trying to talk to him. Then again, he was just as tempted to actually use his old service blaster to ensure that person wouldn't pester him again. Unfortunately, that might have some rather negative repercussions. With a mental shrug, he opened the door.

"Whatever it is you want," Darvix said, "I don't have it, and even if I did, I wouldn't give it to you…Well, maybe if you want sexual favors, I can make an exception."

Standing before him was Kasari Lisae, the promising young student he had selected to accompany him on his assignment. If he were able to see, the look on the poor student's face would have caused him to double-over in laughter. She wore an expression of shock, confusion, and utter disgust, in other words, the usual expression someone wore when they spoke with Darvix.

"Ah, it's you," Darvix said, finally realizing who his visitor was. "Wish I could chat, but I've got a shuttle to catch in a few minutes…well, actually, I really don't wish I could chat, just seemed like a nice thing to say."

As Darvix tried to close his door, Kasari shoved her foot in the doorway.

"I just wanted to thank you for allowing me to join you," she said, trying her best to keep a warm tone, despite Darvix's rather…inappropriate behavior.

"Don't put too much stock into it," Darvix said. "Katarn told me you were a looker."

As Kasari stared at Darvix, stunned that he could have said something bordering on sexual harassment, he managed to get his door closed. He smiled to himself as he slipped into his room to grab the supplies he would need for his trip to the Redemption. He might be able to have some fun with this assignment after all.

***

From the moment Kasari Lisae stepped into Luke's audience chambers, he knew he was in for a headache. No doubt, she had gone and talked to Darvix, and he had either said something rude, or had made a pass at Lisae. Knowing Darvix, it was probably both. He braced himself for what was no doubt coming.

"Padawan Lisae, how may I help you?" Luke asked calmly.

"I'd like to respectfully decline my invitation to join Jedi Knight Zorvan on his assignment," she replied.

"I suppose I'll just get right to the point" Luke said with a sigh, "what did he do this time?"

Kasari stared at Skywalker for a moment before speaking, "You know about his behavior problems?"

"You have to be blind, deaf, and dumb not to hear about his antics," Luke replied with a shrug.

"Then why do you keep him here?" she demanded.

"Kasari, I know Jedi Zorvan is…eccentric," Luke conceded, "and that his behavior often is against everything we teach our students here, but he is truly a gifted Jedi. It is difficult now to see what sets him apart from the others here, but I assure you he is extremely capable."

"I just don't think we would work well together, Master Skywalker," she said. "What do you think I should do?"

"If I were you, Kasari," Luke replied, "I'd give him a chance. He's gone through a lot in life, and has much that he can teach you."

Kasari thought to herself for a moment. From the few chances she had to speak with Darvix, he had presented himself as being incredibly misanthropic and withdrawn. Surely, that couldn't be who he really was. She had been taught to give those around her the benefit of the doubt, and Jedi Zorvan should be no exception.

"Very well," she said. "I will accompany Jedi Zorvan on this assignment."

"Good," Luke said in turn. "Darvix will be unavailable for the next forty-eight hours or so, but after that the two of you will depart for Coruscant to meet with General Antilles."

"General Wedge Antilles?" Kasari asked. "As in, New Republic hero Wedge Antilles? The man who survived two Death Star runs, brought Iceheart to her knees, nearly toppled Warlord Zsinj, and for nearly a decade was the Republic's most eligible bachelor?"

"…It's the wanted poster, isn't it?" Luke asked. "Janson was right. Everyone falls for the wanted poster."

***

Darvix wasn't sure what time it was when he finally regained consciousness. As the fog cleared from his mind, he tried to remember the sequence of events that had brought him to where he was now. Something about Skywalker giving him some sort of assignment, telling him the Redemption was in system…

The Redemption. It was perhaps the most respected medical ship in all of the New Republic, hosting only the finest military doctors and nurses. He'd been on board the ship once before, and if his brain wasn't playing tricks on him, that's where he was now. The last time, he had to take a month-long soak in a bacta tank while being tended to by the Redemption's medical staff. That was thanks to one of his first missions with Rogue Squadron, which ended in an ambush that left him floating in zero-gee without his left arm. The last time he had been here, he had nearly died. He left with the taste of bacta in his mouth, and a cybernetic left arm.

"Ah, Mr. Zorvan I see you've finally woken up," a new voice said. Probably a doctor, Darvix thought to himself. "How are you feeling?"

How was he feeling? As the fog finally lifted fully from his mind, he felt a dull ache in his head.

"Feels like someone's been banging on my head with a set of hydrospanners," Darvix grumbled.

"That's a normal side effect," the stranger said. "That'll disappear in a few days time. You're very lucky, Mr. Zorvan. It's very rare to find someone who has managed to regenerate their own optic nerves. Typically, that is a problem that even bacta cannot fix. Now, we'll just dim these lights a bit and remove those bandages from your eyes…"

Ah, right, that was why he was on the Redemption. Part of this mission required Darvix to return to the flightstick of a snubfigher, but of course, he couldn't do that blind. Years ago, Darvix had nearly lost his vision due to a bacterial infection that had gone untreated. His eyes had been replaced by a pair of cybernetic implants. They were inferior to what his real eyes had been, but it was better than nothing. Then there was the duel, and then after that, there was nothing but darkness in Darvix's world. Granted, Darvix could have had this procedure done months ago, yet he had chosen not to. Part of him seemed to fear what would happen when he regained his vision. He had grown so much within the Force because of his blindness. It had caused him to develop his skills with its use, simply in order to survive in daily life. Would he loose that ability when he regained his vision?

That was just part of the problem. The cynical part of his mind began to nag at him as the doctor began to carefully pull off the bandages. He had grown accustomed to misery; he had grown to revel in it. His blindness fed his misery and disdain for life in general. He didn't want to be miserable, but at the same time, he didn't want to change. He had accepted the way life treated him. He knew that every hand of cards the galaxy gave him would be worthless. If he were to regain his vision, he might regain some of that false hope that had only served to hurt him in the past.

"You can open your eyes now, Mr. Zorvan," the doctor said.

Taking a deep breath, Darvix slowly opened his eyes. No longer was the galaxy pitch black, or the electronic blue that his cybernetic eyes had always cast the galaxy in. He could see color, he could see images, and he could clearly see the faces of the medical staff in the room. As he looked forward, he saw a mirror, and for the first time in over a decade, he saw himself.

His black hair was a mess from not having groomed in approximately two days. His face was covered in a thick layer of stubble, from not having shaven in that period of time. One detail finally caught his attention: the color of his new eyes. As he looked into the mirror, he saw looking back at him a pair of emerald green colored eyes. His mother had said it was the color of his fathers eyes, before he had died. Most importantly, it was the color of his eyes before he had lost them all those years ago.

Despite himself, a reluctant smile began to form on his lips. His mind yelled at him to put his emotions in check, but for the first time in what seemed like an eternity, a faint glimmer of happiness emerged within him.

Easy, Dap, he said to himself. You can enjoy this, but back to your normal self soon as you're off this ship.