Author's Note: I'm so sorry I haven't updated for a while, but my computer (Mervin) was down. I was so happy to get more reviews—I've been in agony, wanting to write (especially now that I've gotten a great idea for later chapters…cackles). Now that school is over, I will update more often. I only own my characters…now to the story…

Stars

Amara sat stiffly on the end of the hospital bed (the sheets wrapped around her legs had felt suffocating), poised for flight—although the way her thin legs were shaking she doubted she'd get far. She glanced at the closed door, half expecting it to open and for him to jump in and shout "surprise!" She surveyed the others in the room: a squid who sounded like a female, a dark-haired, angular young man, and Luke Skywalker (he alone kept her from running). They watched her as if she might break apart at any moment—and perhaps she would. The awkward silence that had filled the room after she had screamed for them to get away from her was deafening, but in her head, someone was sobbing and remembering…

"Amara?" The dark-haired man broke through her thoughts, his voice filling her head like a warm breeze and blew away the darkness hanging at the edges of her mind. I know his voice—but from where?

"Who are you?" she asked, not quite meeting his penetrating blue eyes.

"Sgt. Jonathan Knight," he answered, straightening.

I know your voice. It's a nice voice. Who are you? Amara nodded, biting her lip as she tried to figure out how she knew him. She remembered being picked up and held, but…she shook her head, unconsciously holding it in her hands as she tried to block out the memories…

"Sgt. Knight rescued you," Luke said and restrained Jonathan from going over to comfort the distressed girl.

Amara looked up; her eyes flickered from the Jedi Master to Sgt. Knight. The sergeant's face was carefully blank as if he was trying to conceal deeper emotions. Rescued me? No. It's all some sick joke—another of his games. But then she met Sgt. Knight's eyes, and all her doubt dissolved for a heartbeat. He would protect her. No…don't protect me… run. I'll kill you. Amara looked away from him, drawing her knees up to her chest and wrapping her arms around them.

"You're safe, Amara," Luke continued, sensing her emotions, "He can't hurt you anymore."

She nodded her head, her face still pressed into her knees. "How—how was I…" she mumbled.

"A salvage freighter stumbled across the…research facility you were being held in. They got your message." Amara didn't respond, just waited for Luke to continue. "They reported their discovery to Vice Admiral Harris—he's in charge of the Belkadan outpost, where we are—and he sent out a rescue party. Sgt. Knight is commander of the squad that found you."

A headache was building at the back of her head. She couldn't care less where she was at that moment: one question hammered through her mind. "And…and…him?"

"Dr. Rave…" Amara shuddered but lifted her fingers in a small wave to indicate that Luke could continue. "Dr. Rave has been taken into Republic custody. He will stand trial for war crimes in a month," Luke broke off, but she knew what he had left out.

"I will have to testify against him," Amara whispered, struggling to keep her voice from trembling at the thought of seeing him again.

"Only if you're strong enough…" Jonathan began.

"I will have to testify," Amara repeated more forcefully as if saying it again would destroy the fear threatening to overwhelm her. She pushed all thoughts of the doctor from her mind and locked her eyes on Luke Skywalker. "So the war is over?"

The Jedi Master blinked then smiled. "Yes—the Rebels won."

"Of course." She could feel that Luke wanted to ask her more—why she wasn't surprised at the war's outcome. She had a vague memory of telling him that she was his father, of Vader, but that had been just a dream. "Strange how all that advanced military training the stormtroopers went through goes out the window as soon as they're faced with a bunch of teddy bears, eh?"

The squid (Cilghal wasn't it?) snorted. Luke looked surprised. "How do you know about the Battle of Endor?"

Amara shrugged and smiled, happier now that the mood had lightened.

Luke didn't want to let the subject drop, but Cilghal stepped into the conversation. "I guess we'll find out eventually, but she doesn't look like she wants to talk about it now, Master. And I think there are more important and urgent matters to discuss." Amara frowned at the squid, feeling the waves of comfort the Jedi healer was projecting. Cilghal turned her large eyes on Amara and smiled. "I'm sure you want to go home," she said, not noticing how Amara immediately stiffened, "and I'm eager to get you back to a familiar environment where you can fully heal." Amara felt suffocated by the blankets of protection and understanding Cilghal was wrapping her in with the Force. It was all a trap, a trap—the question was coming. "Where are you from?"

Amara squeezed her eyes shut. "Get out," she hissed, balling her hands into fists and flinched expecting a blow that never fell.

"What?" Cilghal asked, confused at this sudden change.

"GET OUT!" Amara screamed. "I will never tell you! Get OUT!" She was shaking, her body spasming with remembered pain. And she was crying. Dammit—stop! Don't let him see. She had been safe—now that was gone. When she opened her eyes, she would see him leering down at her. She could hear his voice: Oh, 314, you really believed someone would rescue you?

The two Jedi had used the Force to drag him out of the room, and now in the hall, Amara's sobs filtering through the door, Jonathan faced them, his rage honed into a fine point, his body tense. How dare they? He had never felt so powerless, unable to comfort Amara or fight back. "If you ever…" he hissed.

"She needs time to sort out what's happened alone," Luke said calmly. "She still has a lot of healing to do—she's very distressed…"

"Well, if Cilghal hadn't asked her…"

"How was I supposed to know she would react like that?" Cilghal said, her voice quiet and tinged with guilt. "None of Dr. Rave's surviving files even mentioned why he kept her—it was just those damn holovids of him…you know. Apparently it had something to do with her home planet."

"Apparently," Jonathan said sarcastically.

"Look, I'm sorry I brought it up, but I can't take my question back now." Cilghal hung her head—she had failed again.

Luke laid a comforting hand on her shoulder and gave Jonathan a warning look. "Any of us could have made the same mistake—no one knew. She needs time now…"

"She shouldn't be left alone," Jonathan said, crossing his arms over his chest. "She could hurt herself or try to escape…" He planted his feet, his slender body as stiff and sharp as a knife blade. "I'm staying."

Luke sighed. "Fine, but you will remain outside her door. Understand?"

"Yes," the sergeant growled.

"We'll check back tomorrow."

Jonathan watched the two Jedi walk down the hall (Cilghal's shoulders were shaking) and disappear around a corner. He waited exactly half an hour, long after Amara's sobs had faded away, before he entered her room again.

The room was dark. Amara stood before the windows, silhouetted in the starlight, staring out into space. She didn't turn when the door whooshed open, and for a moment, Jonathan wondered if she had even heard him enter.

"I never saw the stars." Her voice floated to him almost from another world.

"What?" he asked, silently crossing the room to stand beside her. He gazed down at her face, pale and soft in the darkness.

She didn't look at him. "There were no windows where I was kept. I never saw the stars." He could hear the sadness in her voice as she reached out to lay one hand on the window. "But these aren't my stars anyway."

He gazed out into space with her, wondering which glimmering dot warmed her home. After years of space travel and battles on countless worlds, he had forgotten that for some, the stars never changed—familiar constellations were always in the sky above. Had she never been away from her planet before this? He longed to ask her, but… "They're out there. They just look different from here."

"Perhaps." He turned to her, about to ask when she cut him off: "Don't ask me," she pleaded, looking up at him with pain-filled green eyes, "please—I can't tell you. Not yet. I…I'm sorry."

"Don't be."

"It's just…he always asked me that before…" She shook her head and looked back out at the stars. "I believe you," she said so softly he almost missed it.

"Believe me?"

"I believe you'll protect me—that I'm safe. Your voice…I trust you."

Jonathan had no idea how hard it had been for her to utter those words, but he knew he had been given a very precious gift. He lifted his hand to brush a stray hair from her face, but she flinched away. He dropped his hand.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, "I… please leave."

"I understand," he replied, "I'll be right outside if you need me." Jonathan left her at the window, and smiled at her mumbled "thank you" before the door closed between them.

"'Bout time, sergeant."

Jonathan spun. His fist stopped an inch away from Marcus' smiling face. Marcus raised an eyebrow. Jonathan lowered his hand to his side. "What now, Marcus?"

"Just came to force you to take a break. The girl's up—you can relax." Jonathan was about to protest, but Marcus held up a hand. "I don't want to hear it. My commanding officer is going to get a full night's sleep, and don't worry about Amara." He waved to someone behind Jonathan and two shadows detached themselves from the wall, coming to stand next to Marcus. Jonathan stared at Beloda and Doug who simply grinned in reply.

"It seems my whole squad is against me," he groaned, but a smile tugged at his lips.

"Amara will be under constant surveillance—two honor guards will be around at all times and will be replaced with a new pair every couple of hours," Marcus continued, "And you better be grateful. We're still on leave." The Vice Admiral had put the entire squad on indefinite leave after their last mission—in all honesty there was nothing else for them to do. As Harris had put it "peace sucked."

Jonathan sighed and allowed himself to be led away by his best friend, throwing over his shoulder to the guards: "Take care of her."