Emily's back hit the floor, the impact between her shoulder blades knocking the breath straight out of her. Staring up at the exposed rock ceiling, she took a moment to contemplate exactly how much of a bollocking Pei was going to give her, her lungs gasping in the hot, recycled air. There was a creak and whine of servos, a skeletal shadow looming just at the corner of her eyes, as a ringing metallic voice said - "Do you yield?"

Emily groaned and rolled onto her belly, pushing herself up on trembling arms till she was on her hands and knees. Her shirt was stuck to her back with sweat, her face burning hot and stinging where it dripped salt down her brow and cheeks. She was fairly certain that her bruises were forming bruises now, but that just seemed to ignite that little ball of hot defiance in her gut. 'MacKenzie stubbornness' her granny had always called it; Emily came from a long line of people who just didn't have the sense to know when to quit - for better or worse. And right now, that particular trait was definitely leaning towards the worse.

"Fuck off," she said in English, slowly drawing herself back up onto her feet. She spread her legs in a wide stance, trying not to wince as she took a second to stretch her back, feeling her joins pop and crack.

"Do you yield?" the voice repeated, not understanding a word that she'd just spoken.

"No."

The shadow lunged.

It's truly amazing how much the brain can process in just a fraction of a second. Emily was aware of the weightless suspension of her body as she arced towards the ground, could feel each sharp metallic joint of the robotic hand gripping the front of her shirt, pressing painful spiked fingers into the skin on her hip. But even as the room swirled in her vision, all she could think was - nine weeks. It'd been nine weeks since Ben and Ani had left, and she'd never felt so aimless - so utterly alone - in her entire life.

Which, given her current situation, was rather ironic - in an Alanis Morissette sort of way. There was a whole Temple full of thousands of people around her at any given time. Jocasta still reigned over the Archives, always eager for any new story or snippet of history she could think of. Shaak Ti was still giving her hallikset lessons twice a week, determined to prove that every being had music in their soul, even someone as 'tonally impaired' as Emily. Then there was Pei, who had become marginally more tolerant of her lurking around the labs for company. Emily had even started visiting the younglings' halls of an occasional late afternoon - the novelty of her being an adult, but not a Jedi Master or a Temple worker, meant that she was met with an interesting mixture of unabashed curiosity and genuine openness. They peppered her with questions, and Emily was equally liberal in asking them in return. While far more serious and self-aware than children around their age had any right to be; they were also quick to laugh, to ramble and talk over each other, to argue and shout, to run and play and jump and sprint like their little bodies were so bursting with energy that their limbs couldn't contain it all. Chatting with them was one of the few things that filled the hollow ache in her chest - at least for a while…

Until she remembered that Ben had left because of her.

That wasn't the official reason given, of course. They'd been assigned to an important mission by the Council, Ani had explained. It was what Jedi did; they went to planets like Malastare - they investigated serious issues, like the possible abduction of a member of the Dug Council. They solved problems no one else in the Galaxy could. And everyone knew that he - and his Master - were the best in the Temple at what they did. That was probably why they were assigned in the first place, even though they were meant to be looking after Emily. Ani had no doubts at all that they'd be back in a few weeks. He promised he'd find something - something interesting - to bring her back as a gift. Then he'd left, with a tight hug and his face tinged pink with embarrassed pleasure, when she'd placed a fond kiss on his cheek as he hurried out the door.

Ben himself had only visited her once before they left. It was on the day following the party. Emily had woken in the medical infirmary, her head feeling like it was slowly being shrunken down to the size of a peanut m&m, and her memory after drinks with Senator Organa nothing more than an empty void. Pei had mercilessly prodded her with questions, and pointy things, before waving off her apologies and practically grounding her to her room for the day. And that was where Ben had found her, showered and changed from her sleep wrinkled dress into the cosiest clothes she'd been given, wishing for nothing more than a swift death. Emily was well versed with Earth hangovers - hell she was practically a connoisseur of them - but if what she'd felt was any indicator, these new-fangled space hangovers were on par with medieval trepanning.

"How are you?" he'd asked, lingering near the door like he wanted to bolt from the room at the first opportunity. Emily had spent the morning curled up on the sofa and submerged under all the blankets MEL could scrounge up, bemoaning a galaxy where hangovers existed but Irn-Bru had never been invented as a cure.

"Where do the Jedi stand on mercy killings?" she'd mumbled back in reply. Ben chuckled, eyes crinkling, but after a few seconds the smile slowly slipped from his face. He wandered over to the drawings pinned to her wall, pretending to examine them like he hadn't seen them a hundred times already, while he stroked a hand through his beard.

"I have some news," he said, turning slightly but still avoiding her eye.

"Oh?"

"The Council has assigned Anakin and I on a mission. I'm afraid that we may be gone from the Temple for some time." He didn't look at her as he said this, he just crossed his arms and let his eyes trace the polished copper lines in the floor.

"When are you leaving?" she asked, the blankets peeling away as she sat up. She'd been worried that Ben would want to talk about what happened on the balcony, but this was entirely unexpected. When had all this been decided?

"First light tomorrow."

She stared blankly at him, waiting for her brain to catch up and process what he said. It didn't make any sense. "So soon?"

"Our assignment is very important and can't be delayed," he said. Spotting her dress, Ben walked over to where it was tossed over the back of a chair for MEL to clean and return. He plucked up a layer of the shimmering fuchsia silk, rubbing it between his fingers absent-mindedly. "Anyway, we've been kept from field work for far longer than we should. It's had an impact on Anakin's training."

"Sorry I've been such a burden," Emily said, trying to keep the bite from her voice.

The dress slipped from his fingers as his head jerked up, finally making eye contact with her. "No, Emily…you know I didn't mean…" Ben fumbled before snapping his mouth shut. He closed his eyes, took a breath and then let out a sigh. "I didn't mean it that way."

When he opened his eyes again, he took another deep breath and pulled his mouth into a half-smile that didn't reach his eyes. "Besides, you don't need Anakin and I here any longer," he continued, keeping his voice light. "Your Basic is good enough now to charm a room full of Senators - there's not much more we can help you with. And you have Pei and the others nearby, should you need anything. You'll be perfectly safe here while were gone."

She didn't know what to say to that, so she just nodded, picking at the edge of a blanket that looked like it'd been crocheted from iridescent fur.

"I should go. There's a lot of preparations still to be completed before we leave." He made his way towards the door.

"I don't remember everything from last night…" she said, swallowing hard around the lump building in her throat, trying to blink the stinging burn from her eyes, "but if I did or said anything to upset you, then I'm sorry. I don't know what it was - but you know that the last thing I'd want is to make you uncomfortable, right?"

Ben stopped half-way through the door. He didn't look back at her. "You don't need to apologise. You didn't do anything wrong," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "This is just the way things have to be."

Bam! Emily hit the floor hard enough to rattle her teeth. The tight metal fist was still pressing against her chest, pinning her to the ground. Yellow filament eyes stared down at her, glowing against the dull grey faceplate, blocking out everything else from her vision.

"Do you yield?"

Emily grit her teeth, twisting to the side as much as possible while still clamped in the vice-like grip, and swept her leg out as hard as she could. Her fleshy human foot met a steel plated knee. The yell of pain that tore from her throat reverberated around the room.

"Do you yield?" it repeated, entirely unaffected by either the kick or her resulting cry.

"I would suggest you say 'yes'," a calm, deep voice remarked from the side of the room. Her foot was throbbing like an infected tooth, but the irrationally angry part of Emily didn't want to yield. She wanted to tear this walking pile of fucking scrap apart. Barely even thinking, Emily grabbed at the arm pinning her down, digging her fingers into the gaps in the forearm's plating. She could feel the electric sting of static fizzle along her fingertips, and grinding a snarl through her teeth, Emily pulled with everything she had. The creaking groan as the metal started to buckle and shift under her hands caught her by surprise - and it seemed to surprise the droid as well. A sharp crackle of blue electricity sparked where one of the protected wires had snapped, and just before she managed to peel the arm-plate off entirely, the droids other hand shot out, yanking down on her wrist until she let go. The long-fingered hand clamped around her throat, pressing down hard enough to make spots swim in her vision.

"Do you yield?" it said, and maybe it was just Emily's imagination, but the voice this time didn't sound quite as emotionless.

She growled and bucked and swore, but the thing didn't move. Eventually, Emily bit out a reluctant, "fine, I yield!" and immediately the pressure on her throat was gone. The droid pulled away from her entirely, standing back a few paces from where she lay, still panting the air back into her body.

"These training droids are only authorised for use by Jedi," the deep voice continued, as if he hadn't just watched her nearly be choked out by a robot. "They are not authorised for use by anyone else - especially not by someone lacking in any form of combat training."

"I'm not entirely sure what you are trying to achieve…other than injuring yourself…" said the voice, as another long shadow stretched out until it blocked her vision. Sharp eyes glanced down at her from a familiar dark brown face, "…and damaging the training droids."

Emily looked up at the unblinking Mace Windu, noting the raised angle of a questioning eyebrow. Otherwise, his face was just as inscrutable as it always was. "I'm trying to learn how to fight."

"Why?"

"Well, according to some people, I'm supposed to be something of a galactic collector's edition item," Emily said. She made a move to sit up, but the scream of pain from the bruises in her body, now felt in exquisite detail thanks to the drop in her adrenaline, made Emily flop back down with a groan. Maybe she could just lie there for the next day or two instead. A hand extended down, palm out in offering, and well, now she had to get up or Master Windu would think she was rude. Damn him. Emily took his warm, dry hand in her sweaty one, and let him pull her onto shaky feet.

"Unless the stories about people wanting to capture and sell me are an exaggeration? It's not like I'd be upset if they were."

"They're not an exaggeration-" Mace said, casting a critical eye over her, "-but you're under the protection of the Jedi Order. While you stay under our protection, no harm will come to you."

"And what happens when I stop being under your protection?"

"Are you planning on leaving the Temple?" he asked, raising his eyebrow again.

"I…" God, was she thinking that? Emily didn't know why, but for weeks now she couldn't shake the horrible feeling that everything was changing. She didn't want to leave the Temple…the thought terrified her. For all the time she'd been here, Emily still knew nothing about surviving in this new galaxy she'd been thrust into. But in the back of her mind, a wriggling doubt told her that she'd need to learn, and learn soon.

"No…I don't know. It could happen, couldn't it? I mean, I'll be travelling to Alderaan two weeks from now, and even though Pei will be with me, I should learn how to protect myself just in case. It's not like I can have a Jedi following me around for the rest of my life. At some point I'll need to learn how to live by myself."

Master Windu didn't say anything, but Emily could feel the pressure of his eyes on her. It was more subtle than when Ben or Ani did it, but the tell-tale feeling of his mind brushing over her was one she could still recognise. "And is learning self-defence the only reason you decided to activate the hand-to-hand combat protocol on this droid?"

"It's also amazing exercise," she said, pulling her thoughts back tight within her. Emily didn't want him to feel her emotions - mainly because they were such a jumbled, rioting mess she couldn't even get a grip on them herself. Instead, she put on her best impish look and tried to fall back on humour. She lifted her right arm, flexing the spindly limb like she was a body-builder at a show.

"Look at the muscles I'm building. You can almost make out a shadow, if you look really closely right there…" she said, pointing to the tiniest indent hinting at the pathetic mound of muscle slowly developing underneath. "Impressive, isn't it?"

Mace Windu couldn't have looked any less impressed if he tried. Even though she was joking about it, Emily actually was gradually building muscle and getting stronger for it. Since Ben and Ani had left, she'd found that she couldn't sit still - couldn't focus - without her thoughts falling back to the night of the event. It was infuriating and upsetting and tiring, going over and over it in her mind. So - even though she hated exercise with a fiery passion - Emily had decided to spend her days throwing herself into every kind of physical activity she could, until she was too exhausted to think of anything. She spent her mornings running up and down the Ceremonial Staircase outside the Temple's doors, singing the Eye of The Tiger to herself for motivation. She explored every nook and cranny of the underwater quarters, swimming against the swirling artificial currents till all of her ached. She did push-ups till her arms collapsed and sit-ups till her stomach burned, and slowly, very slowly, her body had started to change.

For some odd reason, after learning that she was naturally stronger than the human's here, Emily thought that she'd be able to just suddenly do amazing things. Like run for miles without being out of breath or do a thousand push-ups without breaking a sweat; but that wasn't how it worked. She hadn't actually changed. When Emily had went to do push-ups, she found herself still tapping out at five. Puzzled, she'd asked an exasperated Pei who explained that, while her muscles and bones were denser and stronger, that meant that she was heavier for it. Emily may have been three times stronger than a Galactic woman with the same height and body-shape, but she was also over double their weight. It was quite the dent to her vanity to realise that she likely weighed the same, or even more, than either Ben or Ani.

It also explained why objects and items were so much lighter feeling here. Emily had just thought everything was that way on purpose; like they were made of aluminium or plastic as a kind of space-age aesthetic. But everything was built to accommodate the human's here. Droid parts and casings were light and flexible because humans built them to be assembled and disassembled easily by hand. It was the same with chairs and tables, wall panelling's and crates. Everything and anything humans had to handle, was automatically made with their limitations in mind.

"Your distracted," Mace said, pulling her back from her wandering thoughts. Emily was about to protest, but the look he gave her, made her mouth shut with a click of teeth. He really wasn't a man that could be bullshitted.

"Today's the one-year anniversary of when I crashed here," Emily eventually admitted. It had completely thrown her when MEL had declared it after her morning shower, congratulating her like it was some wonderful miracle that she'd survived this long. Emily had just sat there, half-dressed on her bed, staring blankly at the walls. A whole year had passed. All she wanted to do was talk to Ben and Ani about it, but they were gone. "I don't know - I just couldn't stop thinking. I felt like I needed to do something."

Mace didn't say anything else, but he was watching her like he was coming to some kind of decision. Eventually, he nodded to himself. "Meet me here at eighteen-forty hours, tomorrow. What you're wearing now will be fine."

"For what?" Emily said, thrown by the sudden shift in conversation.

"If your serious on learning self-defence, you will need someone to teach you," he said, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. He cast a look around the room, before turning to head out the door. "Let the maintenance technicians know that one of the training droids is damaged and will need repairs."

"Oh, and Emily," he called behind him, as he disappeared from sight. "Don't be late."