AN: Realized I forgot to include the place and time setting at the start of the last three chapters. They've been updated to match the rest.

I'm hoping that this chapter marks the halfway point through this story. I have an outline. There will be at least five more chapters, and I'm hoping it will have no more than twenty chapters, but we'll see what happens as I write it. This story is teaching me a ton about writing! I know there's still a few rough points, and there's a few places where I feel like Jarel steps out of character, but I hope you'll forgive those for now. After it's done I intend to come back and edit a few chapters.

Disclaimer: I don't own Star Wars.

Chapter 10

Hyperspace, en route to Socorro, 4 months after the start of the Clone War

It was three days to Socorro along the Corellian Run and then past Christophsis, Joelle estimated. Aboard the Tracker, inputting the coordinates and sending a departure flight plan to Coruscant Control, the Nav computer confirmed the time: 3 days, 8 hours, 37 minutes. After returning from the Immigration Center, Elle hadn't bothered to change into more comfortable clothes than her stiff, official SBI uniform. She wanted to get underway first, then she would have plenty of time to change, but while she waited for her flight plan to be accepted and confirmed, she reached up and unpinned the tight coil of hair at the top of her head, letting the braid fall loose. It was only slightly more comfortable than the tight knot.

She considered their route on the screen. Normally, whenever she had an excuse to go to the Mid or Outer Rim via the Corellian Run or Trade Spire, she managed to stop at Corellia once on the way back to the Core. But a lot changed in a year, she thought with a quiet sigh. Her mother no longer wanted visits from her only daughter, and while her brothers were always accepting, she could just imagine bringing Jarel around. There'd be a fistfight before they'd been there an hour.

Behind her, the cockpit door hissed as it slid open, and Jarel joined her in the cockpit for take-off. The clone had done the opposite, going straight into the crew quarters when they had returned and stripping off the plastoid plates of his armor. In between trying slightly different courses in the Nav computer, Elle glanced at him, settling in the co-pilot's seat beside her, though this time he left both feet on the ground, leaning his forearms on his knees as he squinted out the viewport. Since she'd given him civilian clothes, they were all he wore. She'd shown him how to launder them; as far as she was concerned, they were his and his problem now. Today he'd chosen a loose green shirt and black trousers.

She had never confirmed it aloud, but he had been right in his assumption that they had once been Marek's clothes. Most of them, she had bought for him. He'd discarded them as easily as he had discarded everything else born from their six week partnership. The first time Jarel had donned them, her memories had slapped her in the face and she'd almost regretted giving them to Jarel. But now the painful twinges of memory had almost completely faded. They were Jarel's now.

The Nav computer chirped as her flight plan was accepted and it flashed to green on the screen, along with a time limit, bringing her out of her thoughts. If she didn't clear the city in that time, she'd have to start over. Elle reached for the controls and eased the Tracker off the landing pad and into flight.

XXXXX

Elle was good at keeping herself busy during hyperspace travel. She'd had a lot of practice, especially over the past year, living alone. She spoke to her contacts either directly or via text. She complied data and wrote reports. She had several holocharts and files she updated with relevant data. She cleaned and prepped and reloaded her gear. She tinkered with the Tracker, or R4. She performed aerobics listening to loud music (now in wireless ear buds instead of over the speakers). She watched holovids. She cooked. She cleaned.

The second day into their hyperspace journey, Elle was again working on the Separatist terminal from Muunilinst. It was almost completely decrypted now and the data downloaded, and disappointingly it hadn't held as much as she'd hoped. Most of it was only information that Marek could use, of course. She didn't want to, but she would send it on to him. If she didn't he would just keep calling until she did, and it might be enough to save lives someday. All of it she transferred into zip files to send to Ilko, along with a report she'd written, summarizing her findings. Elle was pleased that she was almost done with the thing. She had plans to wipe it and then use the terminal for something else.

The crew quarters door slid open and Jarel strode out, stalking around the edge of the lounge. Elle, ear buds in, saw him out of the corner of her eye. She barely glanced up anymore. She'd gotten used to his comings and goings, although he spent most of his time in the cramped crew quarters. That was fine with her; the less she saw him the more she could pretend he wasn't here. They had barely spoken over the last two days, except at mealtimes, but they hadn't come to blows again either. The tentative peace she had offered with a doughnut seemed to be holding. She ignored him, watching the lines of code on her datapad closely as she maneuvered a tool around the innards of the terminal.

Then she became aware that he was moving around the lounge with intent as he suddenly strode past her. When she looked up, she discovered him carrying everything that wasn't bolted down to the sides of the lounge, clearing space in the middle. With a mental sigh, Elle straightened up and took out one ear bud, her back stiff from being hunched over.

"Jarel, what are you doing?" Her voice was full of exasperation as she gave him a pointed look over the rim of her visor.

"We should spar," his easy answer surprised her. The clone didn't look at her as he dragged a bin of spare parts for R4 off to one side.

Elle dropped her tools to the table and turned to face him, incredulous. "What? Wasn't last time enough for you?"

The clone shrugged, turning a circle as he checked that he'd cleared sufficient space. "I'm bored, and I need to move. And you've proven to be an...adequate opponent." She arched an eyebrow at the unexpected compliment. "Although your skills are still lacking," he added, and she rolled her eyes. Of course.

Now she was annoyed, but she pushed it aside and decided to entertain the idea for a few minutes. Hadn't she won their last round? Joelle crossed her arms and leaned her hip against the table. "Make it worth my while." She threw his words from the day they met back at him.

"Alright." He turned towards her, stance easy, feet shoulder width apart, a man completely comfortable with his body and skills. Even here, he still seemed to balance naturally on the balls of his feet, always ready. Every fiber of his being screamed soldier. It was a quality she found attractive. Blast it, he had a lot of qualities she found attractive. She slammed a mental door on that thought. "For every hit you land on me, you can ask a question. And every touch I get on you, I get to ask you a question." His dark eyes watched her face, waiting for her answer.

Elle paused for a moment as she admitted that it was an intriguing idea. She frowned in thought and tilted her head to one side. "How do I know you'll tell the truth?" she asked suspiciously.

"You'll just have to trust me a little bit," he returned her own words to her, deadpan. She stared at him for a moment, trying to gauge his mood. He was watching her calmly. Today he wore a pale blue shirt and gray pants, the loosest ones she had given him. He was barefoot, she noted with amusement. But even out of his black bodyglove, he cut an attractive figure. Her eyes were drawn to his lean hips. Well, she was completely single now, so she didn't have to feel guilty for looking anymore.

She should say no. But she was intrigued, her work was almost done, and she did feel like she needed to stretch. "Alright, fine," she agreed, taking off her visor and peeling off her gloves. She unzipped her jacket and took that off too, baring shoulders in a tank top. She turned around to set her things out of the way. She stretched her arms over her head, loosening her muscles, and shook herself before turning to face him again.

They both dropped into ready stances, feet shoulder width apart, knees bent, hands in front. Jarel wasted no time and ran forward two steps to come at her with his right fist; she ducked under his hand and elbowed him in the side as she went past.

"That's one!" Elle exclaimed cheerfully, spinning around to face him, holding up her index finger. "So, then. Who's Majel?" It was the most burning question she had and she'd been wondering since the first day.

"A girl who lived on Tirahnn for a while," he replied almost immediately, but that was all he said.

"I already knew that!" Elle protested, fists on her hips.

"You'll have to remember to keep your questions specific, Elle," he teased, and his face split into the first genuine grin she'd ever seen him make, joy at outfoxing her clear. Suddenly he looked very young. His eyes danced and she realized they weren't as dark as she had thought they were. She paused, annoyance fading, because lit by happiness, his face was suddenly very handsome. It occurred to her that there were many sides of him she hadn't seen yet. He had a sense of humor, she realized. Suddenly he realized what she was staring at and shut down, face hardening again. He had a mask he wore outside of the helmet, too.

"Fine. Who is Majel to you?" she clarified, moving on.

Jarel shrugged. "That's another question," he answered, tone challenging. She dropped into a fighting stance once again and met that challenge.

This time Elle raced forward at him. She was still feeling him out, not sure how serious this would be, how much to hold back—though she doubted she could serious damage to his hard muscles; she'd only hurt him before because her hard head had caught him somewhere vulnerable. She aimed a fist for his side and his forearm easily knocked her hand aside even as his other hand punched at her shoulder. Elle let herself drop and his hand went over her head again; she tucked and rolled forward across the floor to prevent his backhand from catching her. Coming out of her tuck, she spun around to find him already bearing down on her. She brought an elbow up to block but not in time, and his foot collided lightly with her shoulder.

"That's one," Jarel repeated in triumph, taking two steps back to let her get back to her feet. "Who's Marek?"

She gave a sigh, but an agreement was an agreement and she wouldn't lie to him. "He's a Republic Intelligence agent who partnered with me for six weeks last year."

Jarel studied her face, nodded, and then dropped into a crouch again. Elle ran at him again, this time aiming to break his nose. He snatched her hand and twisted her to the side; she snapped a foot up as he spun her around. He took the blow on his shoulder.

"Who's Majel to you?" she blurted out, almost before her foot hit the ground again.

"A girl I met on Tirahnn and slept with a few times until I was assigned to move on to Muunilinst," he answered without skipping a beat. The ease he answered with after he'd resisted telling her minutes ago annoyed her. The clone lunged forward, faster than she could follow, knocked both her blocking arms aside with one hand, and punched her lightly in the gut. Elle grunted as she fell back. Droyk! Is he holding back!? The thought occurred to her, and she didn't hold back quite so much.

"How did you meet Marek?" he asked, fists still held up before him as he circled right. Elle recovered her balance and mirrored him.

"He sought me out," she began to explain, running at him and aiming a flurry of blows at his head, left hand, right hand, left hand. The clone effortlessly blocked her, all without breaking eye contact. She spun away to the left, kicked at his chest with her right foot. He dodged out of the way. "There was a joint social party with RI. He came up to me and introduced himself." She grimaced at the memory. He'd known exactly who she was before he'd come up to her, and he'd known that she had comm access codes that he needed. It'd taken her a week to realize the datarod was missing after he left.

Their fight sped up, building momentum. Buzzing, her heart now pumping, Elle was all too happy to keep it going. They circled for a few minutes, punching and blocking, neither able to land a hit. Jarel had power and stamina on his side; Elle danced around him. Sweat broke out on her forehead and began to trail down her back. It felt good, to move and stretch and feel her heart pound. It felt good to feel her knuckles hit something solid.

Elle kicked at his head; Jarel grabbed her ankle and yanked her off balance. The woman turned her fall into a roll to put distance between them. She came up against the hard couch and used it to push herself to her feet, just in time to bring her arm up to block a blow, while her other hand snapped forward and punched his chin hard enough to snap his head back.

"How old are you?" she remembered her question from yesterday as he stumbled backwards two steps, rubbing his chin.

"Ten," Jarel answered nonchalantly. She straightened with a small gasp and reared back in shock, dropping her hands to her sides.

"Ten?" she repeated incredulously, staring at the grown man in front of her who towered a head over her in height, his body full of hard muscle. She'd known they used growth acceleration, but she hadn't realized it would be so...extreme. She herself was twenty-six, and Jarel appeared to be at least her age, if not a tad older. Yet...to have lived twenty-six years in the space of ten...that wasn't much life at all. It was almost cut completely in half, and all he'd done in that time was learn a hundred ways to kill another man. Was that why he ate so much? Suddenly many things began to make sense.

He took full advantage of her shock and lunged for her before she was paying full attention again. Elle's eyes widened as she tried to block and side step, but he had boxed her in, pushed her off balance, and after a minute got through her defenses and landed a punch on her cheek, hard enough to send her backwards. It stung, but she could feel it hadn't done any real damge. Revenge for his chin, she decidedly grimly, but he hadn't hit her quite so hard.

"Did you sleep with Marek?"he asked as he backed up a few steps and let her out of the corner.

Joelle blew out an exasperated breath, aiming up to blow her bangs out of her eyes. Her annoyance flooded back in. How did he always manage to annoy her so easily? This was exactly what she didn't want to talk about. "Men! You're all the same," she grumbled. "Yes, I did, Jarel. We lived together for six weeks. Lots of down time to kill." She readied her fists again.

"How many times?" Jarel pressed, still keeping distance between them, hands at his sides.

It was technically another question, but Elle just wanted to get it over with. And prove she wasn't as petty as him. "I don't honestly remember, Jarel, alright? It was a lot. I lost count." He smirked at some private thought for a minute, until she ran forward with a series of strikes, not holding back quite as much. She finally managed to kick his knee.

"Why do you want to find Majel?" she asked, still crouched and ready.

"She has something I want," he said vaguely, and Joelle crossed her arms and glared at him.

"That doesn't answer my question!" she protested, straightening indignantly. He shrugged, expression amused. With a scowl, she lunged at him again, fists flying, letting him feel her annoyance. He blocked her just as fast as she attacked, his strong, straight forearms always turning her fists to one side. Usually Elle tried not to get too tangled up with her male opponents, lest he use his greater size to his advantage, but now she stepped in close, pummeling his stomach twice, her foot sliding between his and tangling behind one as he went to step back, and just like that he tripped and crashed down on his back. Elle leaped on top of him, straddling his waist, palms on his chest, and glared down at him in annoyance.

"Well, this is cozy," Jarel drawled, looking up at her with a smirk, not at all unhappy with the situation. His smirk turned devious. "But I prefer to be on top," he informed her, then snatched her shoulders and rolled them over lightning-quick. Her back hit the floor before she realized what he was doing.

Jarel pinned her to the deck, body running the length of hers, and she couldn't help but gasp and stare up at him, eyes wide. Droyk! His body was hard against hers. She could feel every detail of those muscles she had been admiring, and she liked it a lot. Elle swallowed hard. Her heart pounded and her mouth suddenly went dry, even as she felt herself growing wet, and she pressed her knees together. Fire ignited in her belly, and she hurried to compose herself and steady her breathing, pushing her arousal down as far as she could go. She searched for something to do with her hands; unable to grab his shoulders to push him off, they ended up settling against his sides.

For an instant, they stared at each other. His eyes were searching her face, watching her with a smirk; she noted that it looked like his nose had been broken before, right at the bridge, and had healed just slightly crooked. His eyes were a warmer shade of brown than she had thought.

"I think I win," he said quietly, voice husky. His breath tickled along her cheek and raised goose flesh on her neck.

She fought hard to keep her voice steady, and leveled her most annoyed glare at him. "Yes. Now get off, Jarel."

He grinned widely. "I would love to, but we'd have to lose the clothes first." One of his hands left her shoulder to run down the side of her body and rest on her hip.

She glowered at him, hoping he didn't feel the shiver his caress caused. "You have the mentality of a teenage boy..." It started out an accusation, then trailed off in realization. Ten.

He finally released her painstakingly slowly, triumph in his eyes as he slid down her body before sitting up onto his knees and gracefully standing. He offered her a hand but Joelle ignored it, rolling lightly to her feet herself.

"I have to get back to work," she muttered grumpily, stalking past him. But first she needed a shower. A very cold shower.

AN: I think the next two chapters will have a lot of Jarel thinking time. Reviews are loved!