Mikalya had never seen her sister so quiet, never actually imagined that the girl could manage such a feat, yet here she stood with wide, green eyes. Eyes that were locked on Adair's back. The girl Ahsoka, the odd, strange, Jedi child, was sitting in the copilot's seat and was also silent - though it almost seemed she wished for the two of them to go in the back.

Meme had long since retired after they settled on the Final Decision, scolding Adair for his cocky narrow miss on a run in with Stormtroopers. Not that getting out had been easy, mind. But perhaps Adair had been rather stupid. And now Haji couldn't keep her eyes of him! And Mikalya had to resent him for that.

Maybe because Mikalya did indeed love her sister - she practically clung to the girl, after all - though she would fiercely deny it if anybody ever said she did. But now her sister wasn't even paying her any mind - she just saw that boy, that boy who was sitting there, sipping a glass of blue milk leisurely. He never tossed them a backwards glance, not one, and yet Haji was almost drooling over him.

"Come to the back with me." Mikalya finally said, tugging at Haji's black body suit. The older girl flinched and scooted away slightly, still studying Adair's back. "Haji!" Mikalya said, then louder, "Haji!"

Haji started, her green eyes torn away from the ratty shirt Adair had draped upon himself, and stared rather impassively at Mika, "Let's go." Mikalya said, then dropped her voice to a whisper, "We gotta talk."

Haji nodded, almost locked in a ridiculous mindless daze, then followed Mikalya out the door. Soon as they had come to a small cabin, Mikalya whirled on her and pounced, "You like him." She was revolted - that much could be seen in her voice - and not only that, quite upset. "What is with you? Don't trust anybody, then fall for some guy who's probably uneducated?"

"He is smart." Haji replied defensively whilst crawling onto a bedroll, "And kind."

Mikalya flung herself onto the opposite bedroll, laughing a harsh, fake laugh, then falling silent. The young twelve year old girl was scared - who wouldn't be, after her run-in with Stormtroopers who turned out to be guys in white-plated armor without feelings at all - what kind of person was like that, anyway? And, of course, there was her venture in the would-be sewerage tunnels, and the blasters, the cave - the fatigue - and, she had managed to hide her coughs after the initial morning, but now she just plain felt awful.

Haji seemed to be emerging from her daze, and her moonlit-colored skin flushed an awfully deep red. Her fingers crept to her cheeks and she pressed her palms into them, "I apologize," She whispered to Mikalya, "If I was being a fool."

The red-haired girl promptly scowled, "You definitely were." She gathered the covers about her and snuggled underneath. The warmth was an overwhelmingly pleasant feeling to be immersed in; her eyes fluttered closed, and even though her nose felt slightly stuffed, and her head pounded, it was so good to be sleeping. Perhaps Haji was right; beds were indeed nice.

The boy was sitting with his legs thrown over the armrest carelessly, and one arm behind his head, the other holding a glass that he straining to catch the last drops of blue milk out of. Finally, apparently he gave up - Ahoska resented that, she was not going to give up on anything at this point, especially in figuring Meme and Adair out. Adair slammed the glass into the console in feigned frustration, then promptly grinned at her, "So. What's your name, Jedi girl?"

Ahsoka scowled at him; she disliked being called 'Jedi girl', but she still sullenly muttered, "Ahsoka."

"Ahsoka." Adair nodded to himself, then thrust his hand out to Ahsoka. Warily, the Togruta extended her hand into his, all the while watching him. Adair hardly seemed to notice, "I'm Adair, as you probably know. I'm almost eighteen, you?"

"Seventeen." Ahsoka replied, still deeply on guard. She had inwardly winced at giving away her name; who cared at this point if she uttered her age.

Adair nodded, then leaned back in his seat again. Ahsoka's cyan eyes followed his fingers; they were snapping as if to conjure something, and the boy said languidly, "You were trained a Jedi." It was a statement; Ahsoka waited, "So. How'd you fair Order 66?"

Ahsoka was slightly taken aback; did she dare tell him that Darth Vader had spared her as she was Anakin's Padawan? Hardly. But Adair spoke first, "Just so you know, I'm aware that Skywalker was your Master. Talk about Force-Sensitive." The boy whistled slightly, then smiled, "Not that technical stuff all matters in the long run."

A pop resounded from his fingers and a spherical ball of lightning leaped from the tips and bounced from finger to finger. Ahsoka's eyes widened; she, of course, back away from the electrical ball in surprise, "How did you do that? Does it hurt?"

Adair grinned as he threw the electrical ball into the air, then caught it and smothered it in his fingers, "'Course not. I do it with the Force - and it's not dark energy, Jedi girl. Like you probably think. It's simply energy, nothing too hard to understand."

Ahsoka was admittedly transfixed, and without really thinking, asked, "Energy?"

"Sure." Adair said readily, still smiling lightly, "Isn't any secret. You've probably seen a dead body, right?" Ahsoka nodded mutely; she had seen several, and was not too keen on carrying on a conversation revolving around that subject - the bodies littering the floor of the Jedi Temple came to mind. "Well," Adair continued, "Say a person has lots of energy, even if they don't have the Force, you can actually see the energy leave the deceased body. And if you do have the Force - say you've made your energy completely neutral, it's all unbiased. Basically, you completely, fully understand the Force, then when you die, your whole body will dissipate and you will continue to dwell in spirit. People call it different things, they learn it different - really, it all depends on who you are and where your exact center is."

Ahsoka frowned, rather darkly, and said, "Well, so are you trying to say there actually is no dark or light side?" She stared intensely at the lax face, who was focused more on juggling his small, snapping electrical balls then the young Jedi girl beside him at the moment. Ahsoka's skin crawled as the blue sizzling energy swirled around his head, and his only response that she had asked something was to concentrate harder one his 'toy'.

Ahsoka turned form the vague boy and frowned at the millions of stars bolting, it seemed, at her, then whizzing by. Barriss Offee used say there was no light or dark side - it was simply the Force, and one would just live in it and become it, for that was the way of the matter. However, much as Ahsoka respected the idea, she had not believed it. Now it seemed the Miralan, however dead she might be, did indeed have company.

Plaintively and out of the blue, Adair spoke, popping his snapping electrical currents one by one, clearly amused by his game, "Yes and no. People can use the Force for 'light', or good, or 'dark', or bad. But really it's all one essential thing." Barriss's belief, Ahsoka recalled, albeit sadly.

"So Force Lighting isn't a dark side technique?" Ahsoka asked quizzically, inwardly detesting her pure fascination with this very un-Jedi boy - who almost, in some very odd ways, reminded her of Jenx.

Adair laughed, and said, "You've obviously suffered- don't get me wrong, you're no child. Well, in most ways, I'll assume, but I gotta admit - you're still a bit naive. Not as much as others." He relented, "But nonetheless."

"I'm naive?" Ahsoka shot, unnerved by the boy's statement, "Hardly."

Adair grinned, then began tapping a fingernail incessantly against the console in mild boredom, "You are." He countered, though it hardly seemed like an argument - more like he was speaking of the weather. It was purely annoying the Togrutan warrior, and made her feel very childish indeed.

"Prove it." Ahsoka's voice trembled daringly at him as her ocean blue eyes narrowed onto his - though he never responded properly, merely shrugged and said, "Sure." Then he fell silent once more, probably, Ahsoka fumed, to provoke her more.

"Well?" She finally asked, her voice rising. Her long fingernails, cracked and caked with debris, dug into the seat as she glared at the other passenger who showed no annoyance, no anything, at the Togruta.

Finally, he replied, "Well, you don't have a center yet - you're seem closer than some Jedi." He laughed a little as he said, "Some Jedi found their center just being Jedi - it was their personality. But then they let something get in the way, and it all fell apart, you know? Any way, that, you don't know Force lightning, you can't see with the Force - Jedi girl, Meme is such an expert at that - you don't understand just picking it up, letting it flow through your limbs, directing the currents of energy. Bam, you can hit people's minds with it. 'Mazing stuff, really."

Ahsoka frowned at him rather in annoyance, and grumbled, "It is biased, though. I mean, you learned it from Meme, right?"

"Sure." Adair agreed, not at all perturbed that Ahsoka had dared called his usage of the Force 'biased'. "But that doesn't mean it's biased, especially because the Force is different for everybody. It's about you, not everything else. So, yes, me telling you that the Force is relaxed, a laidback thing, could be wrong."

Ahsoka slid her arms across her chest, still rather sulky that this boy - this childish teenager, this person - could know more than her when it came to the Force. But how that be true? She had seen so many die - she had trained under the best Jedi.

Adair grinned at her - again! - she thought sulkily, never angry at her feelings though he could surely feel them rise off of her in torrents, "You're angry." He seemed positively amused, "Don't you think that you should be careful - say your Master could still feel you?"

"What do you know about my Master?" The girl shot, anger evident in her voice. Her eyes glittered as her temper, the temper she had been taught to wrestle into nonexistence, the temper that came with a stubborn streak, flared up suddenly. Adair was nearly in hysterics.

"Teenagers." He chuckled, though he appeared to be forgetting about himself - oh, right, Ahsoka amended sarcastically. He was special, better than her. Continuing, Adair asked, "What do you think I am, stupid? Duuh, I know that Anakin Skywalker is Darth Vader."

Fuming, Ahsoka growled, "What else do you know, if you already know that I'm Ahsoka Tano?"

"Well," Adair said easily, "I know that you aren't exactly a traditional Jedi - Meme was a fan of you for a while. I think, at least. She never actually said so, but she's Meme. You're a Togruta. You fight using Reverse Shien. And you appear to be proud of it." He added when Ahsoka jutted out her chin slightly in an arrogant yes-and-that's-the-way-it-is sort of style.

"I'm not proud." Ahsoka countered, "And I don't believe that my Master can feel a thought I'm thinking." She glowered at the boy, waiting for him to contradict her and tell him that she was wrong - Anakin - Vader - knew exactly where they were, and he was waiting...Ahsoka squeezed her eyes shut, trying to block the mental picture of Vader's cold fingers clutching poor little Cala's throat tightly, strength killing the small child.

Adair glanced at her, almost in concern, but he didn't go on in such an easy manner - he spoke rather cautiously, as though he recognized that to provoke Ahsoka now would be a rather stupid - perhaps lethal - mistake. "No, your former master to can't feel you. His energy has changed, so has yours. Normally when you change, and your bonded, your connected every second. But neither of you has opened the connection in awhile, I presume."

Adair had been absolutely correct about everything else - he was fortunate, quite a bit so, actually - because that little bit of Anakin Skywalker, so smothered and mushed, had felt Ahsoka.

Darth Vader had been slaughtering Stormtroopers with his merciless hand, watching them die, for they had not done as he wished - they had let her get away. They had let that liar bounty hunter go with his plans and Datapad, and all he had left was faint memory.

Then he had hesitated, crimson blade trembling at Stormtrooper's throat, ready to strike, but he was preoccupied suddenly.

Her voice - her voice, the way it got when it rose with anger and pride, because she knew she was right, she would not let the other party win. She had said she wasn't proud - even Anakin would snort as such a comment. Chivalrous, Vader thought, plunging his ruby blade into the white armored chest. His endless eyes never blinked, simply watched the shell of the man sink to his knees, blood leaking from the cut. Dying.

Every man who died in front of him was killing him.

But Vader didn't care, he turned, his black cape hovering and floating behind him perfectly, beautifully, before falling in a wonderous graceful arc behind him and floated as he walked.

He had only heard her - obviously she was angry at someone, for her mind had opened and allowed him to dissect the parts - how he used to try to do that, to see that she was safe.

Enough, Vader ordered himself. The Togruta girl was surely dead, and even if she was still a survivor, he had no welcome in the past. It was done, over, and only brought torrents of pain. Perhaps his killing, his anger, his hate was all merely an addiction, for it ended it all...the sorrow the welled up inside of him, the grief that locked his heart and turned it to steel when all he could think of was her. Padme.

Enough.

Then he saw a tiny Togrutan child...and it was all over...all he would ever recall was the brilliant flash of violet, the way it almost seemed if one could dive into those eyes for the held legions of power and wonder and precious secrets.

Enough.

He was spent, done with this. Screaming in rage, his red blade, the color of blood, swept through several more clones' bodies, and he was left heaving. He was a monster, he knew that, but it was the only way he could bear to live.

When it happened, Cala was positively horrified. First thought - a jubilant happiness in succeeding her enemy, but the second thought was not good. At all.

Mai was going to kill her. So was Ahsoka, if she ever returned.

The little Togruta shook the thought from her, and the fears felt like water sliding off of her shoulder, slicking down her arms - but her small stomach still clenched, and she screwed her eyes shut for a moment. Ahsoka would come back. She would, for after all she had come, broken and beaten, after the wake of Order 66.

It hurt - what could be expected of a six year old, anyway? More than this perhaps.

Mai had forced her into a small school for younger children - Ahsoka, apparently, had given her okay - and she had met a Togruta boy who was seven and found it his duty to torment her as much as possible. In front of everybody. Then he had the nerve to follow her home, saying she wasn't nearly as tough as she made it out, who did she think she was, anyway?

And she had turned around, in a lithe, graceful fashion, smirked the way she had seen Ahsoka do so often, curled up her fist and promptly whaled him in the face for all her small worth.

Force, what a bad idea.

What a terrible, terrible idea. The Togruta boy lay on the ground, moaning, with crimson blood smearing his fingers. Finally, his eyes - a navy blue that speckled like the stars in the night sky - blinked open, and he stared at her in stun. Horror crossed his young features, and he slowly pushed himself to his feet, regarding her, it seemed, in respect.

Cala wouldn't have it, though...for she saw a sulky look on his face, a look that clearly said, "I'm telling mommy!" So one orange fist grasped the color of his shirt, and she said, the Force in her voice, "You won't tell your mother I hit you...you ran into a tree."

Apparently, the child was not as developed in the Force as she liked to believe, for the boy snorted, "Liar."

"Ra'shaal?" A voice broke their thoughts, and it was not a voice that Cala wanted to hear - she wanted nobody, to be honest, but this voice was sugary and kind - too sugary. Ra'shaal burst into tears rather quickly, and sobbed heavily as he flew into the woman's arms.

"Mama." He cried into the hem of her dress, "Oh, Mama, she hit me."

The woman moved away from him, ignoring the blood smeared on the folds of her dress, and slowly knelt to his level. Her tender fingers, the color of flame, gingerly felt his nose before turning to Cala in fury.

Cala gulped; not good, not good. "He started it." She said stoutly.

"What's your name?" The woman was cold, fierce towards the girl...menacing even. Suddenly aware of her small size, the girl took a step back, her vibrant eyes wide at her.

But her chin was already set in defiance, and she no longer found her name a danger. Freely, she replied, "Cal," nonetheless. She crossed her chubby arms in mock anger, and then she found Ra'shaal's gaze - he looked rather interested.

The woman tore into her, insults hitting her faster and harder then punches would have - let's not say the blows didn't hurt. Cala, was, after all, a child. And children do not enjoy being told they are 'monstrous', 'unworthy'...or anything worse and of that sort. Yet the girl withstood it, her back braced, her teeth in her lower lip, and when the tirade had finally subsided, she promptly swore at her.

That would not go over well with Mai or Ahsoka either.

Nevertheless, the woman, apparently, was spent. Either that, or aghast at the child's apparent bitterness and lack of regard towards the names one could be called. "Ra'shaal, let's go." She spat, her eyes flashing with annoyance.

Cala waved sweetly, however, and said kindly - though mother and child could tell it was laced with malice, "Good-bye, Ra'shaal. I'll see you tomorrow."

The boy did not reply, rather tucked himself into his mother as if she were a haven - some haven, Cala thought cynically before turning on her barefeet and trotting down the path to Mai - and hoping the woman did not find out she was the 'mystery child' adopted to Mai.

Otherwise...well, she didn't want to think about that.

On the opposite end of the spectrum, there was a woman - an elder woman who looked human (almost) but was not. Much as she tried, she could not instill quite the Force into Adair as much as it resided in herself.

There was a mystery about this woman - to begin, her real name was not Meme, rather Zendaya - and she indeed used the Force as her eyes.

She was part Miraluka, a Force-Sensitive being born blinded, in fact, without eyes. However, she had inherited the eyes but not the vision. Quite unfortunate, her mother had sneered, for she was the one who could see. And she had been left with her father.

Zendaya initially resisted the Force, despised it with all her being, for it was the reason she was a blind foreigner of an odd planet. But she could never rid herself of the odd tongue she spoke, the Miralukese language, though she picked up some Basic whenever she could. She thirsted for sight, and knowledge, and slowly she gained it when she finally listened.

Miraluka didn't always believe in the Force the way Zendaya did - yes, they 'saw' things in it, but some would not become what Adair had so vividly described to the Togruta Ahsoka. No, they chose their own paths. But once Zendaya's father died, she had been taken in by a wise man who had given her what he called the gift of the Force.

And on his deathbed - for all died, though he would commence to dwell in the Force - he had uttered those words and tole her not to be so hasty to cry - and then his breathing had become shallow and then finally, raggedly, stopped. And she had cried, until he had come to her in a hazy blue form and proceeded to tell her that she only brought shame if that was all she could manage with his teachings. Kind words did not make that man up, not at all.

So she had trained pupils, taught then to delve into the Force, to be the Force, to see through...all of her students had been Miraluka. Except for one, and she had believed he would be her final trainee...until now, until she had met that Togruta. And those two redheads...the Force was mysterious indeed.

It had, after all, led her to a human boy who she taught, though he never quite fully grasped the seeing through the Force. It just wouldn't come to him, his eyes, after all, would catch the object and proceed to view it...he was not a Miraluka. He was not her, but was special nonetheless. It would not be a lie to say Zendaya loved him like a son. He did, after all, call her 'Mother' in some language he had known as a toddler.

So he had grown under her care until now - and then he had to go and make some could-be fatal mistake, telling Ahsoka Vader wouldn't be able to hear all her thoughts.

She had not, most likely, closed the connection to his mind. She was rash and angry in that moment - vulnerable - and he had provoked - Zendaya frowned slightly. She stood at the door, listening, and then sighed.

Adair, after you and I going to talk. Least once you get way. She sulk? Zendaya whispered into the bond, then waited a moment, two moments...then a gloomy sigh.

Sorry, Meme. I really am. But it's fun to play around...and I wasn't teasing that bad. I was explaining the Force! You should be proud of me. I'm passing on my teachings!

Sure, Zendaya thought back drily, sure, Adair. Whatever say. You made mistake, you know. Explaining.

There was another hesitation, then another groan. Was it bad?

Could be. Zendaya retorted, then eased back onto her little cot, though she didn't tell Adair she doubted. Vader would be too afraid to face the past and find Ahsoka anyway...but of course, in this galaxy, no one could assume anything.

I'm impressed with myself...didn't wait months and months to update. ;)