*Thieving Banshee*Less than an hour after Dylan called Evelyn*

Ivy found herself lying in Tristan's side on the couch a few hours later, watching Odette and Jack play chess. The rest of the crew retreated to their quarters, exhausted. As it was, the last remaining four in the lounge were all yawning themselves, including Ivy who had been trained to stay awake for extended periods of time. Aside from her slave-band induced, very uncomfortable nap, she had been awake now for nearly two and a half days. It had been eighteen hours now since she boarded the ship and she wanted nothing more than to curl into a ball and sleep. But Drake seemed adamant to keep her locked up in his room for her prison and she was in no rush to return.

So instead she lay on her back, feet kicked up on the couch, back leaning against Tristan's side as his arm draped around her shoulders. His steady breathing made Ivy's torso move in rhythm, even though her own breathing was off by a few beats and the opposing movements were slightly jostling. But she didn't mind. In all honestly, Ivy found herself slowly falling asleep, eyes drifting shut, heart rate slowing. She wanted so desperately to just pass out for a few days, to rest but Drake had not yet retired to the room, no doubt waiting for her.

It had nearly killed her to be so indifferent to him, so cold and very Jedi. Years of training on the emotions of the heart had taught her something very important. She had fallen in love with her old smuggler friend. She was no fool, and it wasn't that heart to figure out, especially when coping with the pain of his loss. She had confided in her friend Evelyn about it a few years into Jedi training, and after the girl had finished smothering Ivy in hugs, the pair had sat down and had a long conversation about it. She had commented that, though the experience was painful, it would give her an edge as a Jedi, an ability to understand and relate to people in a way that few other Jedi could. Ivy had embraced that, tried to turn her never-ending grief into something positive, something that could help people. But the hole in her heart, though grew easier to deal with, never healed.

Now she was stuck in this tangled, emotional mess, happy with seeing her family again, happy with seeing Drake alive, but aching and breaking at his cruelty. The cold persona he faced her with. She'd listened to story after story from the other crew members of the last few hours, the pit of dread growing with every passing second. What was she supposed to do now?

Tristan yawned deeply, resulting in Ivy yawning soon after. She laughed softly at the chain, but only yawned again after Odette did. Jack mumbled something and lay down, cushioning his head with his arms, immediately falling asleep.

Ivy took that as a sign that she needed to get the remainder of the crew to sleep. She patted Tristan on the knee and stood up, Tristan following in close pursuit. Ivy crossed the room and held out a hand to Odette, pulling the girl up. The Mirialan girl wobbled, drowsy, and Ivy did her best to keep the pair from stumbling.

"Come on," she said, guiding Odette to the hall. "I'll need you to tell me where the crew barracks are."

Odette nodded, mumbling unintelligibly. Ivy saw Tristan pick up Jack and throw him upside-down over his shoulder, following the girls to the crew quarters. The three stumbled around the ship, navigating the narrow halls. The other crew members were snoring softly in their bunks, the beds in grooved carved into the walls, two beds to a column, three to a row, and both walls held bunks. Ivy could see drawers and shelves in the walls of the grooves, personal decorations and baubles strewn about. It was spacious, especially for a crew quarters on a ship of its size. Then again, she saw little burn marks here and there, noted empty holes for screws, clear signs of modification.

So Drake had allowed them to make the room more comfortable. That was one redeeming point, Ivy conceded.

One down. A trillion to go.

Odette shrugged into her bed at the back of the room, in the bottom bunk. Zynah was already sleep in her bed, right above Odette's. One of Zynah's arms hung down from the bed to swing sleepily over the opening to Odette's bed.

Under normal circumstances Ivy would have tucked the girls in, her motherly instincts kicking in. But Odette was asleep before her head hit the pillow. Besides, Ivy had to keep telling herself that they weren't kids anymore, they had grown, and they could take care of themselves… mostly.

When Ivy straightened, Tristan had succeeded in throwing a snoring Jack into his top bunk set up on the other side. She heard his head hit the wall and grimaced, but no more than a soft mumble sounded from the abused Jack.

"Well," Tristan yawned, stretching his hands over his head. "I'm done, heading back to my room. Want me to walk you back to the lounge? I can grab a bunch of blankets from my room if you want to crash there. Or you can take my room and I can take the couch."

"No need, Tristan," she shook her head, a fond smile on her face. "No need. I will brave the dragon and go get Drake. No reason to spark more anger."

Tristan scowled, jerking his chin towards the hall. She followed him out and walked a ways down the ship with her friend. "Look," he started, scratching his head. "I wish I could tell you why he's been acting this way, but I really don't know. I mean, after you left he was never the same, and he got a lot angrier, but not… not like how he's been the last day."

Ivy nodded slowly, taking that in. "Mind telling me what's happened over the years? No one really mentioned him at all earlier, except to call him an idiot."

Tristan winced. "As much as I hate to say it, you're going to have to ask him. It's not my place to explain his behavior, or his hardships."

Ivy stopped walking and pulled her friend into a hug, breathing in his scent. It had changed in the last ten years, like so many other things about him. It was muskier now, darker, but thankfully still held that springy undertone that she remembered. "You are such a good Samaritan for a notorious smuggler," she laughed softly at him, pressing a kiss to his cheek. "Go rest, I'll take care of Drake."

Tristan let her go and gave Ivy a light, two fingered salute before retreating through the winding halls of the ship.

With a nervous, heavy sigh, Ivy turned and walked the other direction, looking for the bridge. They had passed it earlier, on the way from the lounge. When ivy reached the room, she paused in shock. The door was wide open, and looking in, she saw Drake lounging in the captain's chair, fiddling blankly at the controls.

"Bored?" she asked, voice quit, watching his head jerk up at the sound of her voice.

But he shook his head, relaxing into the chair. "Tired. You?"

"Likewise," Ivy said, feeling a strange calmness settle over her. This was quaint, this was familiar. This she could handle.

Drake stood from the chair, stretching his muscles. "Want to turn in then?" he asked, approaching the door, where Ivy waited, reluctant to enter. She nodded, apprehension fading and followed him back through the ship to his room. He punched in the key code, slowly, not bothering to block her view from the keypad. She could tell from the flicker of his eyes in her direction that he was well aware that she was aware that she had watched the key code, and also that he didn't care. Ivy had free reign now, a fact which lightened her heart considerably.

This time, when she entered the room, she wasn't afraid. Drake was calm now, no anger or irritation wafting off of him. That in turn relaxed her, and Ivy felt herself drawn to the bed, lying down face first with a plop, resisting a moan of pleasure at the comfort.

Drake settled down on the bed next to her left, and Ivy abruptly realized that they took on the same positions now as they had all those years ago. He wasn't touching herm in fact he had maneuvered as far to the other side of the bed as he could without falling off the side. He was also somewhat stiff, as if unsure what to do now.

"Drake," she mumbled, turning her head form the pillow to look at him. "What's wrong with your arm?"

"Hm," he asked, yawning, shifting onto his left side, arm under his head.

"I noticed that you don't seem to use your right arm as much as you're left," she said sleepily, "but you're right handed. Why is that?"

It was a long moment before Drake answered, his air tense and thoughtful, weighing his words before he said them.

"That day," Drake started, "when we tried to escape the Sith. When he shot me up with lightning. He didn't do it just once or twice, but many times, for hours, just letting out his rage. By the time he was content, half the nerves in my body were shot all to Hell. I can't feel anything across my whole right arm and most of my back, and some other places."

Ivy pushed herself upright, eyes widening in shock. "What?!" she exclaimed, staring at him. Drake's eyes weren't looking at her, but instead directed softly at her pillow, now vacated. "And you never got that taken care of?" she asked, tears gathering in her eyes, the Jedi hold over her emotions breaking.

"Didn't need to," he commented, "besides, not much to do fix. The nerves themselves are fried." When Ivy was about to speak up again, Drake said, "Don't worry about me, Ivy."

He relaxed back into the bed after that, eyes closing, breathe evening. Ivy rolled onto her right side, just watching him, confused, trying to read him.

At last, she settled back into the bed, giving him one last look before surrendering herself to sleep, the image of his face seared into her mind and pulling at her heart strings.