When I'm With You

Atton sat in the cockpit listening to the thunderstorm raging in full force outside. Rain slapped the solar shield in heavy drops, lightning occasionally lighting up the forest in the pitch dark. He shuffled his pazaak deck absent-mindedly with his feet up on the console. He thought about running a diagnostics but knew what the readout would tell him. He considered picking up a hydrospanner and getting back to work, but quickly dismissed that idea. He'd showered and everything; working would just get him dirty again.

Thunder rumbled in the distance and lightning flashed moments later. He almost didn't hear the sound of her footsteps. Almost. He looked over at her as she entered the cockpit and noticed she was wearing her Jedi clothes—thin, gray pants and tunic—with soft-soled wrapped boots. She only dressed like a Jedi on the ship, never in public; she didn't want to give her identity away. Still, he wished she go back to her street clothes. It made her seem less… unreachable.

"What? The meditation party's over already?" he asked and let his eyes slide away from her. Kreia and Visas had joined Mical and Khara's meditation just before he'd taken his shower.

"Yes," she replied absently.

"I guess Blondie didn't mind showing anyone how he feels."

"What?"

He wasn't being fair and he knew it, but Mical really pissed him off. "Whatever he had to show you… by feeling it—"

"A wound in the Force, Atton," she interrupted him. "Nothing like what you're imagining."

He looked at her again and saw how distracted she was from their conversation. There was something else on her mind. Still, he was glad to know there wasn't anything more intimate going on between her and her disciple.

"What I imagine—" he began, but she interrupted him.

"Atton," she said seriously, grabbing his full attention. "Earlier, when I was meditating with Kreia… I felt your mind. I'm sorry."

He stared at her for a long moment before looking down at his pazaak cards. She looked genuinely upset about it, as though he would be mad at her for doing it.

"Of course you did," he said casually. "All Jedi do. But you're sorry? I've never heard one say they were sorry before…" He glanced at her. "That's a new house rule."

She nodded and slowly walked further into the room, taking a seat on the central console. He studied the apprehension in her face and wondered if he was somehow in trouble. Maybe she heard about the way he threatened Mical a little. Or worse, maybe she had found out about his past… Suddenly, Atton felt like running.

"Atton, why do you play pazaak in your head?"

He raised his brows in surprised. "Passes the time," he replied casually. "It's better than listing off engine sequencers, memorizing hyperspace routes, or counting ticks in the power couplings."

Her mouth twisted up in a quirky grin. "There are no ticks in the power coupling. It's fixed."

"Of course it's fixed." He leaned forward and rested his arms on the console where she was sitting. "And that's why you should count the ticking in the power coupling, too."

She narrowed her gaze on him and they squared off, a battle of wills until one or the other gave in. She would win. He knew she would. She already had. But if he could keep staring at her like that, so openly and intimately, with her attention focused directly on him, he would pretend to fight back. And as she searched his eyes for understanding, he wanted to make her understand.

"You want to know why I play pazaak?" he asked and she nodded. "All right, Kay. I'll show you."

"I don't have the credits," she said when she saw him shuffle the deck.

"We're not playing for credits," he told her. "We're playing for something else. Are you going to play or not?"

"Okay." She tried to hide her grin as she shifted to face him directly. "I'll play."

He started to deal her out a side deck but she surprised him by pulling the side deck he'd let her hold onto out of a pouch on her belt. He smirked, shuffled the main deck, and flipped her first card. They played several rounds in silence and when she did try to talk he shushed her. As he dealt the fifth round, he spoke.

"What are you thinking about right now?"

"Pazaak," she replied, eyeing him over the top of her side deck. "Computing the totals to 20."

"Right." He motioned to the cards. "And that's why I play pazaak in my head. Because if you don't, you've left the door open. And anyone could walk right in."

Revelation played on her face. "So you do it to shield your thoughts."

"No. I'm just some guy who plays pazaak in his head," he told her. "But while I'm doing that, it's a lot harder for someone to walk in."

"Do you," she seemed uncharacteristically shy, "do it with me?"

"I used to." He shrugged. "In the beginning. You saw me doing it before because there are a lot of Jedi on this ship, not just you. But with you… when it's just you and me… I'm not really thinking about pazaak," he said quietly. He noticed she blushed and the tension between them increased. Or maybe it was just him, but—Force, he didn't want it to be just him.

"No?"

"No."

She tried to hide her smile again. "Is that why you keep losing?"

"I'm not losing," he told her, soaking in the curves of her face.

"Can you teach me," she asked, "to shield my thoughts?"

"No. I can only teach you to play pazaak. Do you understand what I'm saying?"

"Yes."

"All right. I'll deal then." He reached up and touched her knee. "You have four side cards. Pick them now." He brushed his fingers along her thigh and noticed a tiny tremble in her leg. "Got them?"

"Yes…"

"Dealer draws ten. What do you do?"

"End—"

"Shh. In your head." His fingers reached higher. "Dealer draws eight. Three. Four. Two." He toyed with the fabric on her hip. "Keeping up?" She nodded in a jerky movement, indicating how distracted she was by his touches. "Just like that. If you're ever fighting someone who has the power over your mind… play pazaak." He tugged at her leg and pulled her into his lap, scattering pazaak cards. She fell straddling him and he immediately gripped her slim waist. "And when they try to use their powers on you, suddenly it's not as easy as they thought." He lost himself in her face, in the way she was looking at him. She wanted him—she did. "Because you'll be right here with me," he whispered, "playing pazaak… where they can't reach you."

Atton kissed her and she kissed him back, hands tentatively pressed to his chest. That was all the encouragement he needed to discard the mental restraints holding him back. He held her tight against him and kissed her hard over and over again while his fingers curled into the fabric of her tunic and pulled her closer as though she were slipping away. She moaned against his lips, driving him crazy, and he pushed open her mouth to explore with his tongue. His hands roamed her body, her curves, finding out in truth the details he had imagined.

His whole body was electrified touching her like this, kissing her, holding her. When her hands reached up to touch his face, her fingertips gently caressing his throat, he knew she wanted it. He knew she would let him go further. Should he go farther? Did he deserve to? He didn't know. All he could focus on was how she felt so good.

"Khara," he groaned, nipping at her lower lip before kissing and tonguing her throat. She stifled a gasp, chest rising and falling with her rapid breathing. He hooked his arm around her waist and tightened his hold then let his teeth graze her flesh until she winced.

"Atton," she whispered erotically, snapping his mental convictions. He took hold of her thighs and stood up, setting her on the central console.

"Khara," he answered back, diving into her mouth while his fingers played with her belt. Her knees pressed into his legs, prompting him to pull her hips against his. Even through her pants he felt the warmth between her legs, and he knew she felt how badly he wanted her. She winced again and her thighs tightened around his. "I want you. I want you so much."

His heart was pounding, guilt rising with his pleasure. He couldn't stop himself but he knew he had to tell her the truth. He had to tell her before he took her, give her a chance to forgive him. She probably wouldn't if she found out after. She would never trust him again. But he was scared and he was horny and she had taken over his mind.

The cockpit lit up with a bright flash and a loud crack startled both of them. He suddenly hugged her, burying his face in her shoulder, and went still. When the lightning died down and the thunder faded and all they could hear was the sound of rain and their rapid breathing, Khara spoke.

"Atton?" she whispered shyly.

"Khara," he croaked, terrified. "I have to tell you something." He gripped her shoulders and held her away so that he could look into her eyes. "I told you I was a deserter. I am."

"Atton—"

"You wanted to know where I was before Peragus. I'll tell you."

"Atton, it doesn't—"

"Please, Kay. I need to say this. I need to tell you." He visibly swallowed, nervous. "I served in both wars—against the Mandalorians before and after Revan… and again when Revan declared war on the Jedi."

...

Khara looked him in the eyes and knew he wasn't telling her he served with the Republic. He was trying to tell her he had served with the Sith. He must've registered the knowing in her eyes because his expression twisted up, imploring her to understand.

"You were there. You knew how easy it was to hate the Jedi who sat back in the Republic evaluating the threat… and watched us die against the Mandalorians. We needed the Jedi during the wars. More than anything. The Mandalorians were slaughtering us by the millions—the millions." He frowned. "You were at Serroco, when they turned the Stereb cities into glass craters. At Duro, when Basilisk war droids rained like meteors onto the orbiting cities. And when the Mandalorians set fire to the Xoxin plains on Eres III—the fires that still burn."

Yes, she remembered them all. The battlefields had been with her every day of her exile and she relieved them still. She relived Malachor every night when she closed her eyes.

"Without the Jedi who turned on the Council—without you," he continued, "the Republic would have lost the war and we would all be Mandalorian slaves or corpses. So we were loyal to Revan. That was enough. He saved us. And after that final battle at Malachor… after the Mandalorian Wars… that's when the Sith teachings started spreading through the ranks. We knew where our loyalties lay—to the Jedi who came to help us, not the ones who sat back on Dantooine and Coruscant watching us die. So when those same Jedi decided to start fighting us during the Jedi Civil War, we fought back. I fought back."

Khara listened quietly as he explained everything to her. She could not blame him for his choices and they did not make her see him in a different light. After all, she had been the only Jedi to return to the Council… all of the others had died or turned to the dark side. Of course the soldiers would follow them, follow the ones that saved them—these soldiers who knew nothing of the Force, of the light side or the dark side. As he had said, the rest of the galaxy don't see Jedi and Sith as different. That is why the war was called the Jedi Civil War, because no one but Jedi and Sith knew any better. Was this what he had been so scared to tell her? Did he think she wouldn't understand?

"Kay," he whispered, reaching up to cup her cheeks. He tugged her closer and pressed their foreheads together. "Look. I want you to look. I want you to understand."

"Are you sure?" she asked quietly. He hesitated only a second and then nodded.

"I want you to see."

So she did. She closed her eyes and sought the depths of his mind, past the habitual game of pazaak and into his consciousness. He was thinking of those old days, swimming the memories of the war. He was a soldier, fighting. He joined Revan. He learned how to shield his mind with strong emotions and feelings—lust, impatience, cowardice. It explained so much. And then she saw what he had been so terrified of her seeing. Between the minus ones and plus threes, she saw him join the elite Sith assassination squad.

He killed Jedi. He was good at it. He tortured them, he turned them, he captured them, and he killed them. She saw his techniques—wounding the Padawan to mess up the Force Bond, gunning down innocents to force the Jedi's hand, mines, gas grenades, drugs. She felt the pain deep inside of her.

Khara opened her eyes to look into Atton's. He looked tortured. Hot tears slipped out of her eyes and she cried for every Jedi that she watched him kill. He gazed at her sympathetically, apologetically, and reached up to brush her tears away. They still fell.

"You… killed them," she whimpered, mourning for her fallen brethren.

"I know," he said softly, caressing her cheek with his thumb.

Then she saw the woman, the Jedi who came to warn Atton. To save him. She felt his hatred for her and his insecurity that she was right—right about the Force sensitives being sent to the Unknown Regions. She felt his fear as the Jedi woman opened his mind to the Force inside of him and the love he felt for a stranger, a stranger whose selflessness and kindness had reached him. She gave her life to save his and he killed her for it, but her mission had been a success. He had left the Sith, afraid that Revan would soon come for him when he learned the truth.

Atton was Force sensitive.

And he ran from the Sith, not wanting to be forever used as a tool of the dark side. He ran from the war because he couldn't stop feeling once the Jedi had opened his mind to the Force. He lost himself on Nar Shaddaa, wanting nothing more than to be left alone. And then he met her on Peragus…

Khara was flooded with his emotions, his guilt and his fear and his desperation. She reached out and touched the sides of his head, let her thoughts invade his. I forgive you, Atton. She could forgive him because she had forgiven herself for Malachor. The memory would always haunt her, but she had told Bao-Dur it had to be done to save the Republic, and she could not live her life regretting. Neither could he. I forgive you.

And then Atton cried. It was just for a moment, but the release of that held breath brought tears, uncontrollable tears, to his eyes.

"Atton," she whispered, trying to soothe him.

"I don't know who I am," he confessed. "I haven't known who I am for years. A soldier, a defector, an assassin, a deserter, Force sensitive…"

"You are who you decide to be. The things we do are part of us, but that does not mean we cannot change and grow, become better than we were before."

"How do you know?"

"I know. I was at Malachor, Atton. I was the general responsible for that battle. I gave the order that ended the war and slaughtered all of those people," she said quietly. He stared at her wide-eyed. "At the end, they were just people, all of them. Not Mandalorian or Jedi or Republic soldier—people. And if I let that moment define me for the rest of my life, I have no right to have survived, to keep living." She let her hands fall from the sides of his head to the crooks of his neck. "I was a Jedi, a general, an exile… and those things made me many more to different people. Traitor. Executioner. Savior. I won't pretend to be anything I'm not or deny the perceptions others have of me. I am simply Khara Saar, an ex-Jedi trying to do what is right by this world. And you are Atton Rand, a scoundrel and a good man."

"Am I?" he asked. "A good man?"

"Only you can answer that. It doesn't matter what I think of you. It matters what you believe about yourself."

"It does matter what you think of me," he exclaimed. "It matters—" But he stopped himself. "I want to be a better man when I'm with you," he said in a low voice, eyes hooded with emotion. He gently stroked her face and she felt herself blushing.

Atton kissed her again, soft and sensual and slow. She felt enveloped by his warmth, her whole body tingling. It was different from before. It wasn't about desire; it was about tenderness and comfort. She wrapped her arms around him and let herself be overtaken by his feelings.