So, sorry. I'm trying. I'm graduating this week, so that's good. But this story is giving me some trouble. I know where I want to be, and I've written that part, but there's a huge gap and this filler stuff is hard for me to write. So, again, sorry, folks! Doing my best. Hope the crank out time will be a bit faster though. Just FYI.
Bao-Dur could stand a lot of things.
Her temper, for instance. Bao-Dur felt comfortable being berated and yelled at, unfairly or not, because he had been a military man all his life. Well before the war, the military had been his career. He hadn't anticipated seeing any action, and his children would have grown up knowing that their father was away at war. So, falling in line, doing what he was told, that was okay with Bao-Dur.
And she was telling him to do a lot of things, which was unusual for her.
Dantooine made her angry, Bao-Dur could tell. She was acting short with others, and others were acting short with her. She hid her lightsaber deep in loose fitting clothes that she only wore when she had to. It was a Dantooinian summer now, so the sun was out constantly, and the heat made wearing anything that wasn't completely necessary torturous. She seemed less bothered by this than everybody else, probably because of her tropical blood.
Or, perhaps, because she'd grown up on this planet from a fairly young age. She knew what to do and when to do it, what to wear and how to wear it, to avoid the sting of the particularly unpleasant faces of the elements outside of the climate-controlled ship.
She wore very little in the heat: a tight undershirt, her abdomen partially exposed, and high leggings tucked into boots that looked comfortable for walking and running. She wore a variation of robes only when they went out, and even then they were limited to her torso. None of the long robes for her. Bao-Dur kind of liked this take of Jedi robes on her. If she was truly to be the newest, boldest generation of Jedi, and also the last, he figured she could do whatever she wanted to do with the robes and that was that. Her clothes weren't quite the typical browns and grays of the Jedi. No, they were oranges and yellows, maybe even blues. She didn't seem to want to acclimate to that part of her Jedi self yet.
But there were other parts of her that were simply angrier than he'd ever remembered. She used to have a temper that only came out when drawn into the light with some struggle. It was out frequently now, and Bao-Dur knew it frustrated her. She would almost always look around as if she were surprised by the slip up, like she hadn't meant to say the things she said. It seemed out of character for her to be shouting down strangers, but it had already happened multiple times in their first weeks on Dantooine.
But Bao-Dur had trouble standing the way people talked to her. The people didn't like her kind, that was why. Made Bao-Dur feel complete disgust for these freeloaders, for these people who he'd fought to protect. It was because of people like the General and him and probably Atton, who still didn't admit that he'd fought in the war, that they even had the right to call her out on anything.
And they did call her out sometimes.
Especially that first woman, the woman Atton seemed to hang around. Bao-Dur thought he did it just to piss Neli off because Bao-Dur knew that Atton wasn't really as seedy as he acted, but that didn't improve her mood.
No, too often, she was storming around practicing motions with her lightsaber, which was a violet blue, or meditating in midair or running off by herself into a field to exercise. She liked to exercise, and Bao-Dur knew that it was good for her in moderation. But she did it a little too much, and it worried him sometimes.
He caught her once, running off into a field, but his eyes weren't on her legs or her speed, but her face. She was crying.
She was trying to depend less and less on them, to depend on herself, but Bao-Dur knew dependence on others was a hard lesson to forget. When his wife had been killed, going home meant almost nothing, and adjusting to the nothing was surprisingly easy once despair took hold. Being back again was strangely pleasant though, and it became frustrating when he couldn't just recede back into solitude and darkness. He wanted to rely on people now, and it was hard to rely on himself.
Atton had been complaining lately, which bit at Bao-Dur's resolve to be silent. He, too, seemed to be in a bad mood. It was almost like when he was, she was, when she was, he was. It would have been amusing to watch, if it didn't mean misery for the whole ship. And it did mean misery for the whole ship.
They ate together every night, which was a strange ritual. Like a bizarre, broken family, each would convene around roughly the same time to eat in silence, sometimes uncomfortable, sometimes companionable. Bao-Dur noticed that the General often tried to be closer to him than the other two. Not to talk, really. But she was around and Bao-Dur liked it. There was comfort in him, he recognized, and that was okay.
He busied himself prepping her ship for launch. Not that they were going anywhere. It was in bad need of repairs, but that was okay. Things that needed fixing still worked, and there was a thrill of bringing a machine back from the brink of death that gave his life meaning and purpose. Probably had something to do with his dead wife, but what did that matter? Issues were issues, and people had a million ways to deal with them. This was his way.
Bao-Dur couldn't stand the way the old woman spoke to Neli, though. Like Neli was an ignorant child to be belittled and besmirched for her very legitimate fears and worries. It was obvious to everybody that Neli had been abused in her exile. Bao-Dur didn't know how. He didn't know when. He didn't even know if he wanted to know. But he did know that she was struggling to get out of her own way, and the scow was doing nothing to help. In fact, she was frequently at odds with the older woman in a way that, again, would have been amusing had it not cast a dark and depressing shadow over the whole ship.
So, when Bao-Dur saw her running back towards the ship from over the hill of the nearest field, he was relieved that Kreia was nowhere to be found. He saw the General from a distance and decided to go into the ship to prepare her a cool glass of water. She'd need it. It was especially hot that day, and she shouldn't have been exercising, even though it was nearly dinner time and the sun was low in the sky.
He waited for a few moments for her to arrive, to hear her slowed, lethargic, exhausted steps resound from the loading ramp, thudding military-style as she ascended.
But, instead, she didn't stop. She flew up the small ramp, turning the sharp corner around the ship. Bao-Dur opened his mouth to speak when a look in her eyes, a single glance, silenced him completely.
She flung her hands into her hair, tight, twisting braids that were beautiful and damp with the salt of her sweat. Tears weren't in her eyes, exactly, but her knuckles were bruised and there was a budding, swelling sore on the far edge of her face.
She'd been in a fight.
"What happened?" Bao-Dur asked her, stepping forward urgently.
"They're there, Bae," she told me loudly. "The Mandalorians. They're there. Out there. Salvaging. I heard them talking. They wanted to pillage my home, my home, Bae!"
Understanding fleshed out in Bao-Dur's brain quickly, and he made an "ah" kind of sound for it.
"And you hurt them," he announced, a question.
"Yes, I did," she replied angrily, her voice rife with contradictory guilt. "And I don't know why. I don't like this bond! I don't like it!"
"What bond?"
"The one I have with Atton! He's so angry! I feel him all the time! He's so, so angry at the galaxy. How do I stop feeling that way?"
Bao-Dur pursed his lips.
"I don't know, General."
She grunted, jogging over to the sink to run water over her hands. In frustration, she scrubbed, shaking her head at herself. She seemed genuinely too upset to cry about it. She was acting strangely. It didn't seem to make sense.
"Maybe you should talk to Kreia about it," Bao-Dur admitted reluctantly.
"I know, but she's just going to yell at me about it," she snapped back.
Turning back to the Zabrak, she just sighed.
"I'm going to head out and find Atton. Have you seen him?"
"No, I—"
"Did somebody say my name?" Atton drawled from the loading ramp.
"You," she snarled. "Outside. Now."
He emerged, blinking in surprise, but as she stormed past him his eyes followed her like a bug to light, the cynosure of her radiant frustration evident as if it were a swarm around her head in the air. Anxiously, Bao-Dur followed the two of them into the secluded courtyard. The hangar wasn't in very heavy use and all the workers, including that horrible woman, were likely home with their families. They would not have an audience, which made Bao-Dur relieved.
"What is your problem?" she shouted.
But she didn't sound upset. She sounded confused, and Atton, to his credit, seemed to notice.
"What did I do now?" he asked tentatively, mercifully free of his usual drawl.
"You're in my head all the time, and now I just beat the shit out of three Mandalorians because I couldn't keep my temper in check!"
Atton grinned, clearly impressed.
"Whoa, really?"
"Don't 'whoa, really,' me, Atton! That would never have happened before I bonded with you! Now could you keep your emotions out of mine because I don't like the way that feels!"
She leaned forward, and Bao-Dur definitely noticed now. Something was wrong with her.
Atton didn't seem to notice this time.
"You don't?" he repeated. "How do you think I feel? Some preachy Jedi threatening to overcome my dreams every night? You couldn't handle it, princess, even if you did, but it would be nice if you stopped trying."
"Like I'd try to watch you charge up some slut's power converters."
"You think that's all I dream about?"
"Well, I don't know! I'm never in your dreams, so how could I know?"
"Look, what is your problem? Hello, by the way! Nice to see you too!"
"And where were you?" she snapped. "Off gallivanting with that stupid bitch who works in the space hangar?"
Bao-Dur's heart sank as his eyes searched the human man's features. His clothes looked mildly disheveled and his hair was mussed and a little greasy, as if physical effort had been one of the main aspects of his afternoon's pleasantries.
For some reason, it made Bao-Dur a little angry. He could see the way Atton and the General looked at each other. The man was deflecting, Bao-Dur could see, but he wanted Neli like a bantha wanted grass. Wasting his time with women like that woman was just petty and cruel and pathetic.
"What if I was?" Atton finally replied after glaring at her for an extended period of time. "You were the one who decided to leave Nar Shadaa for this shit hole!"
"Oh, I'm so sorry, Atton, really I am, that you don't have an endless stream of honeys waiting for you around every corner! I guess that slut will just have to do while we wade through endless streams of worthless refugees!"
"Look, what's your problem?" Atton asked louder, an edge taking shape in his voice. "You're acting like a bigger bitch than usual, and that's saying something."
"Now, Atton," Bao-Dur interjected, but Neli cut him off.
"I'm being a bitch? Fine! I'm leaving then! See ya!"
She turned on her heel and began to storm off. Bao-Dur trailed after her nervously, but Atton was more proactive in his pursuit.
"I'm here, aren't I?" he yelled, chasing after her to grab her arm. "I'm here! I've helped you with the caves! With the refugees! With Zherron, the great and terrible! What do you want from me?"
Abruptly, she stopped, her back to them both.
"I don't know!" she shouted, yanking out of his grip. "I don't know what I want, but I…"
That was when it happened.
She swayed.
Both men made an "easy now" kind of noise as they crowded around her, and her hands met her forehead.
Neli was ill.
That was a big deal for a Jedi, he heard once. If a Jedi was ill, it was a bad thing. Bao-Dur came around her, putting a hand on her back, and she turned weakly to look at him.
"Help me," she whimpered, and her knees gave out.
Bao-Dur took her into his arms as her eyes closed. Hurriedly, the two men brought her into the ship where it was much cooler. Only in here was Bao-Dur aware of her terrible heat. She was burning with fever. Even for her, her temperature was warmer than it should have been.
Worriedly, Bao-Dur made to put her in the medical bed when Kreia emerged.
"You two are both fools," Kreia spat spitefully.
"Whatever, lady," Atton drawled back, "just back off. Neli's feeling sick."
"Obviously. Did you not pay attention to her feelings in the Force? Despite your attempts to hide it, we are both aware that you can feel some things."
This was news to Bao-Dur, who glanced up at Atton in surprise as Neli's form settled on the cool, clean bed.
"And even if you had not," the old woman continued, "her behavior has clearly been affected by an event. Practice, for once, some awareness, pilot."
"Whatever you say, she-witch. And what was it that I was supposed to be feeling, supposedly?"
"Despair. Fear. Doubt. Sadness. Grief."
The two men stood tall.
"Why was she feeling those things?" Atton asked, his attitude thoroughly neutered by the claim.
"She saw the Jedi enclave today," Kreia whispered angrily.
"So?" Atton asked, a glutton for punishment.
"So, she grew up there, fool! Sentimental and foolish as it may be, it was her home. Her life. And it has been destroyed utterly by the forces that now hound us. Not only that, but she caught her most vile and hated enemy from the war discussing the loot from the only place she has ever considered to be sacred and safe. And yet you would press her further, show her no sympathy, pretend, in your desperate and pathetic attempts to drown it out by indulging in your own lusts, that you felt nothing of this."
Atton just clenched his jaw.
"Her home is destroyed. It will never be again. And this is the first time that she is being made aware of the physical culmination of that truth. She does nothing but squander her own feelings in favor of your own, both of you. Be more considerate of her needs in the future, or I will end you both without a second thought."
"Didn't know you were so protective of your charge," Atton drawled back, his shield back up.
"Be silent now or I will cut your tongue out and feed it to you, pawn," she snapped back.
The two exchanged significant, and hateful, glances before Atton's eyes retreated to Neli's broken form.
"Fine," Atton snapped, staring hard at Neli's face, "just leave us alone."
She didn't need to be told twice. In seconds, Kreia was gone again, and the two of us were left to contemplate the sad truth that the General's home had been destroyed. Empathy was hard to swallow, but I'd swallowed it at so many times that it just tasted like bad medicine.
"Really think it's destroyed?" Atton muttered to me, staring at her face.
"Would that surprise you?" Bao-Dur replied. "Jedi have been nearly wiped out. Dantooine took a hard hit when Malak bombarded it with his fleet. Why would one enclave have survived?"
Atton pursed his lips.
"I guess I just didn't realize we'd be going...to her home, I didn't..."
Atton seemed angry and he crossed his arms uncomfortably.
"I was a dick, wasn't I?"
"You cursed at her," was all Bao-Dur said, pressing a cool towel to her neck gently.
Atton pursed his lips again before swearing quietly under his breath, shooting out of the room. After a few moments, Bao-Dur heard him descend the loading ramp. Sighing, the older Zabrak just shook his head and turned his diligent and loyal attentions back to his old leader and friend.
