The gizka looks up at Mal all shiny, wide eyed, and green skinned. It croaks at her from where it's squished in the cradle of Sasha's arms.
Cute.
"All right then. Your friend's on Manaan?"
Jolee grunts. "Don't go solely on my account."
"Let's say I'm curious who in the galaxy can stand you long enough to call you friend. Especially when that person's being convicted of murder."
He waves her off with a hmph and disappears to the med bay. She turns toward Carth to give the order but faces off with Bastila instead, her face sweaty in aggravation. "This ship is becoming a little too full."
Carth eyes her in suspicion before breaking into a smile. "You've been chasing them around, haven't you?"
"I have not! I was merely trying to herd them out of the way."
"Uh-huh."
Mal bites down a laugh at the twinge of annoyance Bastila leaks out. "Don't let it get to you. I already tried. There's no way we're getting them off this ship on our own."
A gizka leaps hard into the back of Mal's knee making her leg buckle.
Annoying.
"The girl at least has a place to go. You need to take her home."
Mal looks to where Sasha runs back and forth in delight, a swarm of creatures leaping excitedly in her wake.
"Don't worry, I remember." She nods to Carth. "Dantooine first."
"You got it."
She watches as they both make their way to the cockpit, a clumsy dance to politely avoid every gizka crossing their path.
Cute.
"If you really want to be done with them, there's an easier way." Canderous whips out a blaster and points it square between the eyes of the critter at his feet. It cocks its head in curiosity.
Mal grits her teeth. "Canderous Ordo, if you kill a single gizka on this ship I will never speak to you again."
"Yeah, yeah." He grumbles as he spins his blaster back in the holster. The previously threatened gizka watches him go a moment before leaping after his heels.
Annoying.
"Statement: Good call, master. The Mandalorian would have made a mess of things."
Mal looks the murder droid up and down. "Don't tell me you want to try too?"
"Offended rebuttal: Master! I am a highly trained assassin, not an exterminator."
"My apologies," she chuckles.
"I don't know what the big deal is," Mission cuts in as she shoos the gizka away from where they've trapped Zaalbar in his seat. "They're kinda cute."
Zaalbar vehemently disagrees solely on the fact that he's in constant danger of stepping on one at any given moment.
"They are certainly… interesting." Juhani seems to have the most ease in this newly chaotic space. Her walking path is circular, but she knows exactly where to step to navigate like a seasoned professional.
Mal stares, puzzled. "How are you doing that?"
She hums gently. "It is almost a moving meditation. I suggest you give it a try."
"I'll accept that challenge."
Mal stretches her arms above her head till her shoulder pops. She stares at the layout of the common area, engrains the position of each croaking critter into her memory and takes a deep breath. Her mind begins to wander into that calming buzz of meditation and she takes a step forward. Right as a gizka leaps at her from behind.
"Fuck."
Mission and Zaalbar laugh as she performs a hectic stumble and recovery pattern until she's across the room.
"That was a good first try," Juhani hides her growing smile behind her hand.
"Alright, laugh it up." Mal pouts and does her best at a smooth exit. She makes it as far as the storage room before growing frustrated.
Come on, this should be easy for you. She sits cross-legged on a rations crate and tries again. Closing her eyes and breathing deeply, she reaches for that calming buzz. Quiet isn't an accurate descriptor for what happens when Mal meditates, but she does manage to let the running monologue of her mind fade into something nondescript. This practiced focus has been helping the muddle of her brain grow sharper in its edges. Her Mandalorian dreams in particular are growing crisper in detail. The smell of wet earth as she huddles in the ground. The distinct crackle in the air before a grenade explodes.
What was it really that she had gone out into the battlefield to find? Was it as simple as wanting to do the just thing? Or maybe Canderous is right, that urge to define herself through victory running deeper than she'd like to admit. Who exactly was it that she had seen die by their hands?
These are the questions she goes to great lengths to avoid. Touching their edges burns and she's not ready to question the gaping emptiness of those memories. So she runs on instinct and reactive emotion. It's easy enough considering most of the galaxy hates the Mandalorians. It only makes sense that Mal does too.
There's a word for that. Blind acceptance of hate toward a group of people. You should know better. You do know better.
The more she examines her past, the more she realizes what a broken thing it truly is. And a secret fearful part of her prays it stays that way.
Mal opens her eyes, caught somewhere between meditation and memory. She feels oddly blank. Numb. She unfolds her legs and distantly understands the moment her feet rest against solid ground. Empty. Something rocks against her left leg. Mal blinks down at the creature stumbling over her foot. The distance she perceives between herself and this being is inexplicably immense.
She scoops the creature in her hands and it slips like water from her fingers. Strange. She tries again, makes an effort to grip her fingers into its soft flesh and lifts it up to her face. The small thing croaks in her hands wriggling in an attempt to get away. Where does the Force reside in this living thing? What purpose drives its life forward? What does it know of the war raging around it?
The more it tries to escape, the harder she squeezes. Her eyes peer through this creature into the full spaces between, life hidden in layers and folds, watching the force ripple like little waves, a hidden secret if only she can look close enough- a soft pop and Mal snaps back into full consciousness with stomach-churning quickness.
She freezes in horror. A bone chilling dread solidifies her insides to ice as the gizka no longer moves in her hands.
Fuck. You killed it.
Her throat constricts as what have you done strikes up like an endless screeching in her head. The other gizka at her feet continue their gentle chorus, unaware of this silent slaughter. Her muscles lock in place as if the slightest movement will solidify the reality in her hands. What have you done morphs into a beat of how could you as the panic crescendos.
She blinks.
Her hands are empty. She blinks again.
Her hands are clenched on top of her knees. She's still sitting on the crate in the storage room. The dead gizka is gone.
Mal takes one long shaky breath, then another. And again.
Heavy footsteps in the hall. She doesn't turn her head to look as Canderous walks into the room. Only when he crouches down in front of her does she meet his eyes. They hold their usual cool intensity as he gently grabs her wrist and presses his fingers into her pulse. A distant part of her recognizes this is the first time they've shared physical contact, screams at his boldness to dare touch her. The numb part of her holds his gaze blankly.
"Where were you stationed?"
Mal understands each individual word but can't place their collective meaning.
"What?"
"Where did you fight in the war?"
"I don't…" she begins to answer then narrows her eyes. "What does that matter?"
"What exactly is it that makes you hate my people?"
Her heart accelerates, a losing battle, they're all dying, captured, giving up, giving in to their conquerors because no one is coming to save them-
His hand squeezes tightly on her wrist. Mal jolts, focuses on his stare, wills her pulse to calm down.
"Pick a reason," she hisses.
Canderous waits silently as she returns to a state of calm, neither of them moving to break this fragile peace between them.
"Whatever battle you fought you're still carrying with you. Either get back to it or let it go."
He drops her wrist and for a moment she feels untethered as he starts to leave.
"Where is it?" she whispers. He pauses in the doorway.
"Gone."
Mal stays a long while after Canderous leaves wondering what this small favor will cost her one day.
The fresh air of Dantooine is a welcome reprieve from the dryness that followed them from the desert. Mal is surprised by the nostalgia she feels as she steps onto the grass, a quiet ache inside of her that recognizes this place as a type of home. They find the twilek looking for a lost child and when they bring him to the ship, he confirms the girl's identity. Sasha turns to Mal in uncertain fear as he takes her hand in his. Mal smiles, whispers in that secret language they share, and sends the girl away with a tentative hope for the future.
Carth stands by Mal's side waving goodbye as they walk towards the ramp. "You'll be fine, Sasha." He nods at her and she smiles back in return.
Mal sighs. "She's a tough kid. I'll miss having her around."
"Softie."
She lightly smacks his arm with the back of her hand. "Don't push it. Juhani, Jolee, HK, with me."
Carth raises his eyebrows in surprise. "Where are you going?"
"We'll be back soon. Make sure Sasha Jr and Barth don't escape when we leave. I don't need the council on my back about destroying the local ecosystem or whatever chaos these kiddos bring."
"Sorry, what?"
Mal points to a gizka wriggling on its back in the corner. "He tried to follow me off the ramp earlier." She turns and points to a smaller yellowish one. "She made a run for it as soon as it opened."
Carth rubs his chin, expression caught between a smile and a wince. "You really couldn't think of anything better to call them?"
"I ran out of good names about 20 gizka in."
Truthfully none of the names were good, but they were chosen with intention and after careful study during their trip here. A silent penance for what she had done, a secret promise to care for the rest.
Jolee looks about warily as they disembark and enter the belly of the Jedi enclave. Mal is deathly curious to know the thoughts in his head but chooses not to pry. What must it feel like to be back after so long? Did the council know the reason behind his departure? She doesn't make them linger and they quickly exit towards the open air.
"What are you up to now, dragging me all over the plains?" Jolee grumbles once the enclave walls are far from sight.
"Stop complaining." Mal points at him sternly. "It's a family tradition. An Ebon Hawk certification of participation. "
HK-47's eyes glint in the sunlight. "Statement: I understand, master. I am prepared to face off with the old man and Cathar to prove my place on the ship."
"Oh. Wow." Mal indulges in that daydream a beat too long before continuing. "You've got me insanely curious to know how that fight would end, but no. Not what I meant."
"Persuasive argument: It is not too late to change your mind. I promise to make it most exciting."
"If we are going where I think," Juhani smoothly cuts in, "there may still be the promise of fighting."
Mal hushes her with a wink. "No spoilers."
The cave's appearance doesn't faze her companions and they follow Mal through with no complaint. She lets HK-47 have his thrill of a kinrath fight before leading them to the crystals. The view is just as enchanting as her first visit. Mal is content to sit and gaze into their luminous depths as the other three explore and gather.
The urge to make this a tradition appeared halfway through their flight to Dantooine when Mal was struck by a sudden desire to visit. There's something undeniably calming about this place, a heavy coolness that makes Mal feel as if she's floating in water. It's here she first felt she could begin to master this thing called the Force, here where she felt the pieces of her team lock into place inside of her. She looks up as her three companions stand before her, chosen crystals in hand, and smiles.
The sun is beginning its lazy drift towards the horizon when they exit. Mal takes a deep breath in its warm glow. Juhani pauses behind her, gaze caught on something far away.
"I would like to stop somewhere before returning."
Mal catches the look in her eye, nods to Jolee and HK-47 to go on without them. She quietly follows Juhani through the swaying fields, soft hills and valleys, through the stone gardens until they stand in the mouth of the grove where they first met. Mal watches Juhani intently as she takes this place in, can practically see the shadows of their past selves facing off in the grass.
"It has not been easy for me, my journey as a Jedi." Juhani closes her eyes. "I cannot tell you how happy it made me to be saved by you. To be seen by you, truly, for who I am." She opens her eyes, turns toward Mal. "At the same time, I have been angry with you. Furious for what you did to my home, to Taris. Even now I think of my home in ruins and it is still your face I see as the cause." The shadows sway at their feet, liquid black growing under the waning light. Juhani clenches a hand to her chest and Mal can feel it too. The rage that so easily makes a home in their skin. The frantic call to shred that anger to pieces in order to feel something other than a desperate burn. Juhani smooths her hand open, presses it against her heart. For a moment it feels as if they're breathing together, an inhale and exhale with the entire grove. "I am sorry to have put you on a pedestal. You were right. You are learning just as I am and under much harsher conditions. It was too easy to see you as my savior and not my equal."
Mal watches the shadows reenact that pivotal moment. The unexpected fight followed by careful argument, two paths stretched before them, a gentle surrender. The beacon of fresh light calling the lost ship home.
"It's fine, Juhani. Really. You already know how I feel. You know it better than I'd like you to. I'm a little ashamed to say it but part of me enjoyed the attention. Even if it's your anger, I'll gladly take it on for you. Give it to me to carry and let yourself be free." That much she can do at least. She can't go back and save Taris, but she can carry its weight. For Juhani, for Mission, for Zaalbar. There's no one else in the grove, but the admission on her lips makes Mal cautious all the same. She makes her best effort at shielding these emotions from Bastila. "Can I confess something? I want to be that version of me you see. I want to be worthy of your admiration. You've witnessed so much cruelty in this galaxy, whatever you hold up as good must be that much more special. Is that selfish of me?"
Juhani's eyes are wide, the expression on her face completely open and stunned. Mal runs a hand over her face, embarrassed.
"Sorry, I shouldn't have said all that.".
"N-no, it…" Juhani looks away. "You are being serious."
Mal chews on her cheek for a second. "You remind me of myself. Take that as you will, but you're better in ways I'm working to reach. Please have more faith in yourself."
They let the quiet envelop them, the rustle of tall grass in the breeze a calming hush to the world. The shadows have melted into each other ready for the night to lay claim. Juhani catches her eye with a soft smile.
"Then I will say the same to you, Mal Korra. May we both work towards the light."