Chapter 8 – Breaking Point
First Day of Training – Boulevard of Broken Dreams by Green Day (cued in by -1-), Ignorance by Paramore (cued in by -2-)
Saying goodbye – Which to Bury, Us or the Hatchet by Relient K (cued in by -3-)
Xana: Hey there! I'm filling in for RFC74 to say sorry for taking two weeks to start on the next chapter. Apparently inspiration strikes only when it fragging well wants to. And most of the time for chapters other than the one she's working on. But here's a flashback-packed, super-dramatic chapter to make up for it! And, not to spoil anything, but Talon and I get to have a little fluffy moment! ^_^
Talon (holding ice pack to his cheek): Can we start the chapter now? I'd like for the time lapse to happen so this [points to cheek] can be healed already.
Xana: Oh, all right then! Enjoy the chapter!
Xana sat alone in the dining hall, absentmindedly pushing around the wilting salad and cold fish fillet on her tray. She hadn't eaten all day, but the feeling of misery that seemed to lodge itself in her gut drove away her appetite.
The past few weeks had seemed more like months. Monotonous, seemingly endless months in which she had only become more alienated from her crew and her fellow students. Of course, she and Talon hadn't talked since their argument. Neither had wanted to be the first to break down and apologize, and now what was left of their friendship was slowly fading as a result. Over time, Mission became awed at Xana's new status as a Jedi, and seemed to fall silently starstruck every time the older girl returned after spending all day in the Enclave. The Twi'lek now spent lazy afternoons playing pazaak with Zaalbar and honing her targeting skills with Talon and Carth.
Speaking of the Republic pilot, he hadn't spoken two words to Xana since she lashed out at Talon. Her guess was that Talon had gone running to his mentor – who already had an unhealthy distrust of Jedi – and won him over to his side of the argument. Then, the two got through to Mission and voila – instant alienation. The only real social interaction Xana got anymore was when she'd hang out with Canderous in the swoop garage and ask him to tell her war stories.
She pulled her hair out of its' greasy knot and ran her hands through it in frustration. What was she even doing here anyway? It was obvious they hadn't even wanted her from day one. But then again, nobody seemed to want her anymore.
-1-
Xana strode into the classroom confidently but humbly. She wore a simple black tee, black skinny jeans, and black high-top sneakers, her hair wetted down so it would curl into a crazy mass of waves and frame her face. Her expression was innocent and placid, but her eyes held a clear spark of defiance that irked Master Vrook to no end.
The Jedi Master leveled his gaze at her as she took her seat in the front of the class.
"Class, it seems we have a new Padawan learner here with us today. So let us take some time to familiarize her with the standards associated with such a privilege, shall we?", he asked, voice dripping with false sweetness.
"First of all, you will wear the traditional Jedi robes we had sent to your ship and your appearance will be in order next time you come to class. Seeing as this is your first day, this offense will be overlooked, though future violations will be subject to disciplinary action. Furthermore, you must have a pleasant and respectful disposition when addressing your teachers. You will learn quickly that acts of defiance are not tolerated here. Am I understood?"
"Loud and clear, sunshine."
Vrook scowled at Xana, who simply smirked back with a 'Who, me?' expression on her face.
"The rest of you are to keep an eye on Miss Dakari and report any offenses to me or the Jedi Council."
Xana's classmates murmured a polite acknowledgement.
"Now, today we will begin our series of philosophical lectures on attachments and how they ultimately lead to the dark side."
Xana's hand shot up.
"You have a question, miss Dakari?"
"Yeah. Okay, so you think attachments put one at risk for emotional turmoil. I get that. But wouldn't teaching people to bottle up what's essentially an unavoidable part of their innate human nature leave them at risk for being unable to deal with it when they're not strong enough to keep it from breaking out? In a way, your teachings are kinda conducive to people falling to the dark side, don't you think?"
The class mumbled among themselves quietly. A look of shock and indignation crossed Vrook's face.
"Quiet! I did not give any of you permission to speak! As for you, padawan, I would kindly thank you not to insult my teachings or the tenets of an Order you clearly cannot comprehend."
"It was a legitimate question!", Xana yelled. She adopted a condescendingly accusing tone and added, "One that you are clearly refusing to answer because there is no reasonable rebuttal within the confines of Jedi logic."
The class began to mumble again and Vrook turned bright red this time.
"You will report to the Jedi Council immediately for disciplinary action! Perhaps in the future you will learn to be more tactful when speaking."
"But I-"
"GO!"
That afternoon, the Council was no more open to her pleas than Vrook was. She'd been assigned to cleaning duty for the next several weeks, and her already shaky reputation with her classmates only worsened.
Back and forth. Up and down. Rinse. Start again. The hypnotizing rhythm only stopped to give her time to glare at the mop and straighten out her aching back yet again. Other Padawans stopped to openly stare and point and the strange, deviant new student. Some even had the audacity to laugh.
Eventually, Xana's eyes grew so tired from the constant glaring that she simply kept them downcast and continued with her work. Sometimes she wished fleetingly that she'd run into Mission or Talon as she made her rounds down the hall. It happened once. They glanced at her and didn't look back.
Somehow, the day only got worse and worse. Only after that first afternoon, she already decided she'd had enough and rushed out to the docking bay with a commlink in hand.
Splicer looked down at her with an unreadable expression. The exhaust from his smuggling vessel and the smoggy winds of the Nar Shaddaa docks whipped his fiery blondish-red hair around as he struggled for words. Finally, he simply smiled at her and opened his arms wide. Xana fell into the embrace, breathing in the familiar smoke-and-diesel smell of his ratty black trench coat.
When she pulled away, she was surprised to find his hand in hers. He withdrew it and in her palm lay a brand-new, state of the art comlink.
He spoke with his usual smooth, aloof drawl, but an undercurrent of emotion and promise laced his every word.
"There's a number pre-programmed into this comlink that will always get through to my personal comm channel. You ever get into any trouble, you're stranded, you don't have cash, you need anything at all, you contact me and I'll come find you. Look,", he sighed, " when I rescued you from my dad's base of operations I made a promise that I'd watch out for you, and I want you to know that even though you're going solo that promise still stands no matter what."
"Thank you." Xana fought to keep tears from her eyes."You don't know how much this means to me. These past seven months - all the stuff you've done for me and now you're just letting me free. My life is truly my own again. Just...thank you."
The tears ran down her cheeks anyway and he gently wiped them away.
"Hey. None of that. C'mon, you're going free! It's your first day as a Republic citizen, you gotta smile!"
She managed a watery smile and he gave her one in return. "I promise, Splice, I'll stay strong and rock this galaxy so hard you'll be proud you helped me out."
"Atta girl, Roxy. Now, I got a warehouse full of discontinued Aratech weps I gotta ship out by tomorrow, so I should probably get going. I just wanted to tell you...well, just take care of yourself, okay? And always remember, I'm only a comm call away."
Now, eight-and-a-half months later, Xana punched in that number and tearfully waited for her best friend to pick up the other line. All she received in response was an automated message, "The comm channel you are attempting to reach has been deactivated by the user. Please try a different number or hang up. We apologize for any inconvenience-"
The comlink shattered against the wall of the Jedi Enclave before the message could play through. Xana watched with steely eyes as the metal shards blew away in the wind.
And of course, there was the joy of the excessive reading assignments she still had to do when she came back. Just one problem – she'd never fully learned Galactic Basic. She didn't know who she wanted to kick more, Splicer for making that blasted translation program non-compatible with datapads, or herself for never asking him to teach her to read and write.
"Okay, there's an E, and there's an I. Jedi. I, S, T, O R... that word must be history. That one's 'the'. Two words, with an A, R, and N. I'm gonna take a guess and say this is about that Exar Kun guy Master Zhar was telling me about yesterday."
Xana ignored the loud whispers and giggles that were directed her way as she sat in the shadows with her datapad, talking aloud to herself. She felt more out of place than usual, not to mention, well, stupid. After all, what seventeen year old could only muster up the reading skills of a toddler? Earlier that day she'd had to ask a fragging youngling what a word in her datapad was. The child couldn't have been more than five.
Tears stung at her eyes as she whispered sarcastically to herself. "Hey, nice work. At least you got the freakin' subtitle read in under a half hour. Only...", she scanned the datapad, "twenty-four more pages to go. Joy."
As she looked back on her time in the enclave, she could only recall one bright spot of the day. The several hours she spent honing her Force powers and combat abilities. Yep, if she ever got out of this mess with her mentality intact, she'd definitely want to be a Jedi Guardian. But, alas, even that was taken away from her.
-2-
Her face puckered into a look of intense concentration as she sat cross-legged in the dark room. The datapad lay in front of her, its' screen casting a light glow over her torso and head. She pushed her mental abilities so hard it almost hurt, focusing on getting a clumsy grip on the object.
It floated a few inches. In the thrill of victory and dawning knowledge, Xana nearly let it fall. With a quick jerk of her head, she secured the datapad in her invisible hold again and tried to direct it into her hands. She stretched out her palm to receive it, but in doing so broke the concentration momentarily. Startled, she just barely managed to catch the datapad before it shattered on the ground.
Zhar nodded approvingly. "You are making steady progress. Well done, my padawan."
Xana beamed at him. Out of all the people in this enclave, here was the one guy she could definitely see herself taking a shine to. Mainly because he was the only one who ever actually appreciated her efforts, but she was glad to be his padawan nonetheless.
"Come, let us go to the training rooms. Padawan Bastila is probably waiting for you already."
Xana sighed and exited through the door her master held open for her. When she entered the dueling chamber and picked up her training vibroblade, her gaze locked onto Bastila with barely-masked annoyance.
On Taris, at least Carth, Talon, and Mission had complimented her heavily on her natural skills with melee combat. She became more confident with her weapon until it seemed even to her that she' d been born with a sword in her hand. Her grace and talent when fighting simply flowed forth.
The first time she'd dueled Bastila, she had gone in assured that she would show these arrogant Padawans that she did indeed have some worth as a Jedi. But she didn't know how to use the Force to amplify agility and strength while fighting. Bastila did, and the older woman ended up knocking her flat on her back more than a few times. It wasn't long until a small crowd had gathered around them. Then the jeering and booing started.
Now, a group of Padawans already surrounded the dueling ring and were gazing at her with mirth and amusement written all over their faces. Xana settled into a strong defensive stance and waited for Bastila to make the first move. The other Padawan came rushing at her and Xana feinted to the right before twirling to the left and coming down hard on Bastila's vibroblade. Determination and adrenaline pounded through her veins as she broke the lock the swords were in and came flurrying at Bastila with a series of powerful diagonal strikes.
Xana was just tired of it all-the facades, the rules, the taunting. She was frustrated, hurt, and angry - so very angry. So she poured all of it into her punishing blows, letting the exhilaration of combat training become her release. So determined to win was she, that when she found her sword locked with Bastila's again, she didn't hesitate to ram the hilt down onto the other Padawan's hands. She elicited a surprised cry and during the moment of distraction that followed, Xana took advantage of her opponent's weakened stance and roughly kicked Bastila's legs out from under her. She went sprawling to the ground and Xana pointed her vibroblade at her in triumph.
When she looked up, however, the other Padawans were not applauding but rather glaring at her. Master Zhar came over, running past Xana to help Bastila up. Xana's wild grin fell, and she asked incredulously, "What? You all wanted me to beat her and I did!"
Zhar finished doing a Force heal on Bastila and turned to face Xana. Disappointment was etched all over his face. "Padawan, you used anger and frustration to best your opponent. That is the way of the dark side. Now look at what has happened. Padawan Bastila's knuckles were damaged and one of her kneecaps was sprained during the duel."
Xana looked over Zhar's shoulder to her bond-sister, who looked composed as ever but was gazing at her with eyes filled with sadness.
"I was just...I didn't mean to-"
"Clearly the padawan needs more control over her emotions before she can progress further with her combat training." Xana spun around to see Masters Vrook and Vandar standing in the entryway to the dueling chamber.
Vandar added, "Yes, I do believe a few more hours of meditation and studying would do her some good."
Vrook continued, "Then it's settled. You will now spend one-half of your combat classes reflecting on your mistake today, until we deem it suitable for you to continue as planned."
"No!"
"Dismissed, padawan." Zhar's tone of finality shut Xana up and sent her running into the main hall.
That had only been this past afternoon. Now the sun was setting, the soothing amber shadows only promising another day of failure and ridicule once they faded. Xana shoved away her tray and slammed her hands down on the table. Enough was enough. She was getting out.
She stormed down the hall and toward the docking bay. As she rounded the final corner, however, she unexpectedly smacked right into Bastila. The older Padawan seemed to be on the verge of a lecture about awareness, but softened as soon as she saw the strange mix of pure rage and exhaustion on Xana's face.
"Padawan Dakari – Xana – what is the matter? I can sense your tiredness through our bond...have you even eaten or slept today?"
"Why would it matter to you?", Xana snapped, "The only reason I'm in this mess in the first place is because you just needed to be the prodigal student, the one to capture the vaunted Future Hope of The Republic and deliver her to the Jedi Council. You don't care about my comfort or my wishes, all you really care about is your own fragging facade!"
"I don't understand-"
"Let me spell it out for you then. Every day here has been pure misery for me- I can't seem to do or say anything right. At all. Pretty much everyone except for Canderous, T3, and Mission has a vendetta against me. My life revolves around constant studying or 'disciplinary action'. I only want nothing more than freedom, simple freedom. But now even that is denied me because of you! Got it now?"
Bastila looked genuinely hurt and placed a comforting hand on Xana's shoulder. "Xana, please believe me when I say that I was only acting in yours and the Republic's best interests. You have a great potential that could be used to end this war once and for all, saving billions of lives! Isn't that what you want?"
Xana looked sullenly at the ground. "I don't even know anymore. At this rate the war'll be over by the time I get out of here. And it's not like you or anyone else is making it any easier for me. Just – get out of my way. I've got things to do."
Bastila nodded sadly and stepped aside. "If you ever need to talk, Xana, I'm always here."
Xana just strode past. She had no intention of talking to Bastila – not now, not ever. Every word she spoke would probably be reported to the Council anyway. But then again, it's not like she planned on sticking around to talk anyway.
-3-
Xana ran up the Ebon Hawk's ramp and sped into the starboard cabin. Adrenaline pulsing, she scrambled to gather together a few changes of clothes, her hacking equipment, and whatever toiletries and weapons would still fit in her field pack. She whipped out a datapad and slowly typed in a simple message.
I'm sorry.
She then changed into her jumpsuit and shouldered her pack.
Looking around the room one last time, Xana picked up her Jedi robes, vehemently tore them to shreds, and threw the mass of brown rags against the wall. Then she lovingly ran a hand over her guitar one last time and set it on Mission's bunk.
Five or ten minutes had elapsed by now. The crew would be returning for dinner any moment. She pocketed one of the scraps from her Jedi robe and sneaked through the enclave, being careful not to be seen on her way out. The front courtyard was empty. It was only a short run to the swoop bike Xana had been detailing by the Enclave's fountain.
Pew. Pewpewpew.
Xana jumped, startled. Much to her surprise and dismay, on the right side of the courtyard stood none other than Talon, absentmindedly practicing his aim on a row of cans stacked on the railing. She facepalmed. So much for her brilliant plan – there was no way she'd make a clean getaway with him standing there.
She mused silently for a moment. You know, if this was a fairytale I'd mount my bike gallantly, and he'd probably see me at the last moment and come running over spouting heartfelt, poetic apologies, begging me not to go...
But fairytales never happen, she reminded herself harshly. True enough, Talon remained silent and continued to ignore her. No, she'd have to settle things with him an entirely different way.
Thinking quickly, Xana formed a rudimentary plan in her mind. She wheeled the swoop bike over to the courtyard's entrance and pretended to polish it. Sensing Talon's agitation and impatience spike up, she continued the silent stalemate, mentally taunting him to be the first to speak.
"I know you're back there." He continued to blast away the cans.
"Yeah? And?"
"Could you leave? I'm trying to practice here."
"It's a free galaxy. I can polish my bike here if I want to."
"But you aren't. You want to stand there long enough I'll get impatient and talk to you."
Xana smirked. "Smart. Okay, you got me. I just wanted to come and ask if you wanted to apologize yet."
Her tone was smooth and cocky with an undercurrent of something he couldn't place. It set him on edge.
"Why should I?"
"Because you'll probably regret it if you don't."
He swiveled around to face her. She was now standing only a few feet away. "Is that a threat, Dakari?"
"Maybe, maybe not. I'm just telling the truth. So are you going to or not?"
"No."
"You sure? Last offer."
"Yeah, I'm pretty sure."
She shrugged. "Okay, it's your choice. Might as well do this then."
Then, unexpectedly, she pulled him in for a hug. She slid one arm around his neck and gripped his shoulder with her right hand. She pushed her feelings of guilt down, deciding instead to just enjoy the moment while it lasted. Her eyes drooped as she buried her face in his drexl leather jacket.
His common sense was screaming at him to get away, that this was the same girl who had struck him down in more ways than one just a short time ago. Yet, he strangely couldn't bring himself to give up his trust for her. Slowly, he wrapped his arms around her and closed his eyes. For a minute they just stood there, blushing ever so slightly and letting the wind whip around them. At first, all he could concentrate on were the butterflies in his stomach when she gently slid her hand up to where his shoulder met his neck.
A moment later, his eyes shot open in horror-struck realization. It was too late, though. She pushed down hard on the pressure point and firmly caught him as he fell unconscious in her arms. Propping him up against the courtyard wall to make it look like he was simply taking a nap, she slipped her datapad into his hand and cast one last look back at him.
"Here's looking at you, kid", she murmured.
Xana swung onto the swoop bike and rode away. She never looked back.
AN: And there goes my first attempt at writing fluff - well, angsty fluff. So how'd I do? But enough with all these reflective emotional scenes, time to up the action factor!
And soon I'll be putting up links to the chapter illustrations in my profile. One for this chapter, and one for the last two. I drew that flashback of Xana getting the commlink from Splicer. Speaking of which, oooh a little more of her past is uncovered and a new character is revealed...are you all sure that Talon is the OC she falls for in the end? ;) Review please, constructive criticism isn't required but greatly appreciated!
