A/N: I'm baaaaaack!

Ahem. This story begins the night before the party leaves Dantooine, and ends shortly before the first chapter of 'Let Your Hair Down'. I'm now in my final year at university, so I have a lot less time for writing, but I'll try to keep updates fairly regular.As usual, I'd welcome any reviews/comments...

Part 1

The two sabers clashed. The blades locked together for a brief moment, scraped apart and clashed again, the movements of each impeccably timed to coincide with that of its opponent. It was a battle of sorts, but there was no passion or ferocity in it; only the fluid, rhythmic interaction of two beings perfectly in tune with the Force. Rather than striving for a decisive advantage, each sought to remain in harmony with the other, maintaining the delicate balance without leaving themselves unguarded and open to attack.

And yet, Jacob was finding it hard to concentrate. Through the blur of yellow light he could see a face, bright-eyed and flushed with exertion, and a lithe, graceful body – somehow more tantalising in modest Jedi robes than in the revealing costume she had worn when he first saw her. He'd felt instinctively that it was wrong; she shouldn't be forced into a cheap, tacky outfit designed only to show as much flesh as possible, alluring as it might be. In her own clothes she was truly herself, and more beautiful for it.

"You're not concentrating, Jacob." She spoke sharply, swiping his blade aside with a force that knocked him straight out of his fleeting daydream. "If I'd wanted to hit you, I could have done it three times over by now."

"Sorry." He de-ignited his saber and mopped his brow with his sleeve, flashing her a rather guilty smile. "I was getting a little... distracted."

Bastila raised her eyebrows, shooting him a distinctly sardonic glance. "If what you see here is so 'distracting', perhaps you ought to close your eyes."

"I'm only human, Bastila," he protested.

"You should not allow your concentration to slip during a duel!" A familiar note of irritation was creeping into her voice, and he braced himself for the inevitable lecture. "You know, there are attractive women in the Sith army as well. What will you do if you find yourself fighting one of them?"

He couldn't resist. "Easy enough... I'll just think of you instead."

The look of sheer exasperation on her face would have been highly gratifying if he hadn't felt her sudden anger. "By the Force, you can be impossible sometimes!" There was no amusement in her voice this time, only a sense of exhaustion and barely-suppressed rage. "Sometimes I wonder why I even bother trying, when you clearly never listen to a word I say. If you're determined not to take your training seriously – "

"Bastila." He clapped a hand on her shoulder, and sensed her heart jump at the unexpected physical contact. "Bastila, it was just a joke. Will you lighten up a little?"

It was the wrong thing to say. Bastila wrenched herself away from his grasp and stepped back, her face cold and angry. "A joke?" she said through clenched teeth. "Of course. Everything is a joke to you, isn't it? Every time I try to give you any kind of advice, you simply make a jest out of it and carry on as you were before."

"That's not fair." Now Jacob's own patience was wearing thin. "Listen, up until a couple of months ago I was scraping out a living as a smuggler in the Outer Rim. I'd never even met a Jedi before I joined the Republic fleet, and now I'm expected to throw away my whole life and devote myself to the Order. I've done my best to adjust, but you never give me any sort of a break – "

"But I'm trying to help you," she insisted. "I'm trying to prepare you for what you'll face during our mission. Can't you understand that?"

Jacob sighed. "I know, I know. But nothing I do is ever good enough for you, is it?" She began to protest, but he interrupted her. "You and Vrook Lamar... you seem to have decided the second we met that I'm doomed to fall to the Dark Side. What kind of chance do I have when you've already made up your minds?"

Bastila sagged a little and lowered her eyes, her anger dissolving as suddenly and rapidly as it had appeared. "I wish I could make you understand," she said miserably, and the sudden weariness in her voice cost him a twinge of guilt. Unwilling to push her any further, he chose not to reply.

Abruptly she raised her head and swept back the loose strands of hair from her face. "Perhaps we should stop here," she said shortly. "I need to pack for the journey. If you need any more saber practice, I suggest you ask Juhani." Her eyes narrowed. "If you feel you're able to refrain from ogling her."

Jacob bit down his annoyance at the unnecessary jibe. "Getting jealous, are we?" he enquired coolly, with a smile deliberately calculated to infuriate. "Well, don't worry, sweetheart. I promise I won't go 'ogling' other women behind your back."

She rolled her eyes and turned away without a word. Jacob followed a short way behind her as she marched off, pleased at having scored a point over her, yet feeling an odd sense of dissatisfaction. He could never triumph over her for long; the truth was that despite how much she annoyed him at times, he would have much preferred her to like him.

He wondered vaguely whether he should be taking a different approach to their relationship. Teasing her and flirting with her had been good fun for a while, but it certainly wasn't having the desired effect; rather than loosening her up, it only seemed to make her ever more uptight and frustrated. Maybe it was time to try another tack.

He was still musing on this when she suddenly stopped and turned round sharply to face him. "Is there any particular reason why you're following me?" she asked, with undisguised impatience.

Jacob hastily pulled himself together. He had actually wandered off after her without really thinking about it, but something told him this answer would leave her distinctly unimpressed. "I thought I'd like to see where you live," he replied, with as careless an air as possible.

She gave him a very strange look. "I see," she said at last. "Well, I suppose it can't do any harm."

Without another word she turned and strode off, allowing him to fall in beside her. They walked on together through the maze of corridors, until she finally stopped in front of one of the many identical doors and inserted her keycard. It slid noiselessly aside, revealing a single bedroom very similar to Jacob's own.

"My room," she announced, without ceremony. "Please, feel free to inspect it as you wish."

He chose to ignore the edge of sarcasm in her voice, concentrating instead on the décor of the room – or rather, the lack of it. The small bedroom contained only plain, basic furniture and a metal trunk by the side of the bed – no pictures, posters, ornaments or anything else that might hint at its occupant's personality. "Have you lived here since you were a child?" he asked, incredulous.

"On and off," she said vaguely, kneeling down by the bed. "Of course, recently I've spent most of my time on starships."

She dragged a suitcase out from under the bed and flung back the lid of her trunk. Curious, Jacob looked over her shoulder to see what it contained: a couple of holocrons, a pile of old books, and... "A doll?"

Her expression softened a little. "Lorella," she said quietly, lifting the doll out of the trunk and carefully smoothing down its hair. "My father bought her for me, not long before I joined the Jedi. I wasn't allowed to take many things with me, so I chose her." She stroked Lorella's face with nostalgic tenderness. "I could never quite bring myself to throw her away."

A faint grin spread over Jacob's face. "Yeah, I used to have this stuffed bantha toy when I was a kid. Boba the Bantha. And you know what?"

"What?"

"He had a face exactly like Master Vrook's. Seriously, every time I see the guy, I have to stop myself from calling him 'Boba'."

Their eyes met for a second, and he saw her struggling vainly to hide her amusement; finally, with a slightly guilty look, she caved in and allowed herself a reluctant smile. All at once the atmosphere in the room seemed markedly more relaxed; it was almost as if they could both breathe freely for the first time. Jacob sat down on the bed and leaned back against the wall, folding his arms across his chest.

"So were you and your father close?" he asked, keen to prolong this unusual but welcome sense of intimacy.

"Oh, yes." She looked up at him eagerly, and he was astonished at the sudden change in her expression; her eyes shone and her face was flooded with warmth. "I loved him. He was kind and gentle, and doted on me." She shook her head, smiling slightly at the remembrance; then the bright glow dimmed a little. "My mother, however..."

"You didn't get on with her?"

The warm light in her eyes immediately faded, leaving them dull and expressionless. "No, I didn't," she said shortly. "I was only a little girl when I left, but I was old enough to resent her and the way she treated my father. She pushed him into treasure hunting and whittled away his entire fortune." She paused briefly, glancing down at her hands. "I think she was relieved to give me away to the Jedi... but my father was heartbroken."

Jacob sensed her reluctance to discuss the subject, and wondered how to change it. "I wish I could remember anything at all about my parents," he said honestly. "Do you still see your father sometimes?"

She looked up at him with a rather sad smile. "No," she said softly. "I haven't seen either of my parents since I joined the Order."

"What, not at all?" Jacob couldn't hide his astonishment. "Why not?"

She hesitated for a moment before replying. "The gift of the Force comes with a high cost," she explained at last. "Sacrifice of one's emotional attachments is one of the prices a Jedi must be willing to pay. The alternative is to fall prey to the dark side."

He frowned, still not fully comprehending her. "Are you saying you're not allowed to love anyone?"

"Emotional entanglements can be dangerous," she stated, her voice curiously lacking in expression. "They can impair rational thought; they can lead to outbursts of uncontrolled emotion. A Jedi must be above such things; do you not understand?"

"Yes, but... even love?" Jacob shook his head. "It seems a little over the top."

Rather than getting defensive, as he had half expected, Bastila merely sighed. "Even love can lead to folly," she remarked, and for a moment he thought he saw a flicker of sadness dart across her face. "I hope you will come to understand this once you've spent more time in the Order."

He looked at her through narrowed eyes. "You don't sound too convinced yourself, come to that."

"Even a Jedi cannot always control the feelings of the heart," she said quietly. "We must do our best to guard against it. But... some sacrifices are harder than others."

Jacob nodded silently and lay back against the wall, thinking about what she had just said. In a way he could understand her reasoning, and he realised she must know more about the Force than he did – but there was another part of him which revolted against the very idea of living in this way. He supposed that it must be easier for normal Jedi, brought up to a life of self-denial and sacrifice, and yet...

"Are you happy in the Jedi, Bastila?" he asked suddenly.

She looked up sharply, pausing in the act of folding a nightgown. "What sort of a question is that?"

He shrugged. "A fairly simple one, I would have thought."

Bastila pursed her lips and frowned, clearly none too pleased by the question. "I am as happy as can be expected, under the circumstances," she said coldly, and turned her attention back to her packing.

"So that's a 'no', in other words."

She threw him a glance of profound irritation, and he felt an abrupt weakening in their bond as she drew up the guard she had briefly let slip. "This is not an easy time to be a Jedi, Jacob," she observed, her face suddenly taut and guarded. "None of us can afford to relax until Malak is defeated. After the war there may be time to think about happiness."

"And what would make you happy?" he asked gently.

She hesitated, thinking the question over. "Peace," she replied at last. "Peace, and safety... and being with people I know I can trust. That's all I need in my life."

"Doesn't sound like much of a life to me." He hadn't meant it to sound disparaging, but Bastila immediately took it as such, and bristled at the perceived affront.

"What right have you to judge?" she said angrily. "You know nothing about me, apart from what I've just told you. How I choose to live my life is none of your concern."

"Sorry I asked." He wished he hadn't, but it was too late; the brief rapport between them was shattered. He sighed and got slowly to his feet, casting a glance through the window to the lengthening shadows in the courtyard.

"It's getting late. I'd better be going." He walked over to the door and then hesitated for a moment, turning back to face her. "Goodnight, Bastila."

"Goodnight," she said distantly, as the door slid shut behind him.

Jacob set off for his own room, shaking his head. Women! He'd sussed out Carth and Canderous easily enough, and Mission – well, she was just a kid – but the longer he knew Bastila, the less he felt he really understood about her. Trying to have a conversation with her was like wading through a deep, muddy stream; you'd be making steady progress, and then the bottom would suddenly drop out beneath you and leave you floundering.

And yet, for reasons he himself wasn't entirely clear about, he kept on going back for more. He'd never really had to pursue a woman before, but Bastila was different; she seemed immune to his usual tactics, and somehow he found that strangely attractive. There was something rather enticing about the idea of breaking through her defences, especially now that he'd seen glimpses of warmth and affection behind the icy façade she so resolutely projected.

If he couldn't get her to admit her feelings for him, he could at least prove to her that her doubts were misplaced; that he was as capable of anyone of living up to the Jedi ideal. A fresh zeal and determination bubbled up inside him at the thought of what lay ahead: for the first time in his life, he had the chance to do something that could make a real difference. Just as long as he managed to avoid screwing it up...

-----

Jedi had few personal possessions, and the packing was soon finished. Bastila closed her suitcase and flopped down wearily on the bed, wondering why almost every discussion she had with Jacob seemed to end up in an argument. His flippant attitude and constant teasing grated on her nerves to the point where she found it hard to control her temper – and it didn't help that the very sight of him stirred long-dormant feelings inside her, feelings she had once believed to have conquered entirely. Feelings that she knew she must avoid, at all costs...

It was all very well for him to dismiss the Code as 'over the top', with his even temper and naturally easygoing nature. For her it was a lifeline, a solid anchor to cling to in a life filled with constant danger and uncertainty. The simple words brought her comfort and peace in a way nothing else could, and she strove to follow them to the best of her ability. She'd been proud of her progress over the last few years, believing herself to be finally getting the better of her turbulent emotions – and now he'd arrived, and everything threatened to fall apart again.

But she couldn't back out now; she'd agreed to this mission and she had to follow through with it, no matter how difficult and frustrating it might be. She couldn't afford to fail, because the consequences of failure were too dire to imagine.

She sank her head back into the pillow, muttering the words over and over again as she closed her eyes. Gradually she felt the familiar, soothing mantra begin to take effect, the tension slowly ebbing from her muscles as her mind grew more tranquil. There is no passion, there is serenity... There is no chaos, there is harmony... There is no emotion, there is peace...

-----

The next morning, as he dressed himself in preparation for the journey, Jacob felt rather less confident than he had the previous night. The sheer scale of the task ahead was only just beginning to sink in: he, Jacob Sora, thirty-year-old ex-smuggler from the distant reaches of the Outer Rim, now held the fate of the entire Republic in his hands. It seemed ludicrous, insane; he just couldn't get his head around it properly. Maybe Bastila had a point after all...

Still, despite his concerns, he couldn't help feeling a tinge of excitement and anticipation. Dantooine was a pleasant enough place for a rest, but it was rapidly losing its charms; he wanted to get out there again into the thick of the action. Most of the others seemed to be feeling the same way, particularly Canderous.

"If I spend another day on this planet," he had growled the day before, "I'm going to flip out and start shooting the place up." Carth, for once in his life, seemed inclined to agree.

Bastila didn't appear to share their enthusiasm, which Jacob could understand; this was, after all, her home. He saw her looking around rather wistfully as they walked through the halls of the Enclave, and once he thought he sensed her shiver a little. "Is something wrong?" he asked, in a voice too low for the others to hear.

She hesitated. "No, not really. Just... a feeling."

"A feeling?"

"Nothing." She shook her head, more firmly this time. "Forget about it."

Their final meeting with the Council was brief and sombre. The Masters wished them luck and tried to sound hopeful, but the anxiety in their faces was plain to see. Vrook in particular seemed to be in a bad mood, even by his normal standards.

"Try not to fail us in this, Padawan," he said grumpily. "As much as I may wish it otherwise, you are our only hope."

"Of course, Master Bo- er, Master Vrook." Jacob heard a strangled choking sound from the young woman beside him, which she hastily turned into a cough. Vrook shot them both a deeply suspicious glance before turning away.

Bastila soon managed to compose herself, and shot Jacob a stern glance as they walked off together. He smiled rather guiltily and turned to look at Juhani, whom he had barely spoken to as yet. She gave him a timid smile, but said nothing.

They found the others waiting for them outside the Hawk, and Jacob took the opportunity to introduce Juhani to the rest of the crew. "Everyone, this is Juhani," he announced. "Juhani, this is Canderous Or-" He stopped when he saw the expression on her face; she was staring at the Mandalorian as if he were a particularly disgusting rodent.

"Hi," said Canderous, without enthusiasm. The young Jedi continued to gape at him; finally her lips moved in what might have been a greeting, but no sound came out.

Jacob wondered what the problem could be, but there was no time to investigate at present. He turned to Carth, who was scuffing the toe of his boot against the ground in a slightly moody fashion. "You've been very quiet lately, Carth," he remarked.

"Have I?" Carth shrugged. "I suppose I have. I guess I just don't like being left out of the loop."

"Left out of the loop?"

"Yes, 'left out of the loop'. You know... not being told anything? Strung along?" He sounded unexpectedly annoyed. "It's really starting to irritate me."

Jacob regarded his friend with some surprise. "Well, what do you want to know?"

Carth straightened up and looked directly at him for the first time, folding his arms across his chest. "Well, for one thing, I want to know what the Jedi Council said to you. They pulled you in there and refused to tell me a thing about it." He gestured in the direction of the Council chamber. "Like this mission, for instance. I mean, you were a great help on Taris, but why would they keep you with us? Don't they... don't they have to train you?"

"My training is finished."

Carth let out a short, incredulous guffaw. "What, finished? You're kidding. After four weeks?"

Without looking round, Jacob threw out a hand towards a nearby fountain and snapped his fingers. Carth watched grimly as a small stone flew out of the water and straight into Jacob's outstretched palm. "Yeah, very impressive," he said sarcastically. "I may not know much about the Jedi, but I get the feeling there's more to the training than party tricks like that. And I also know they aren't famous for taking on old Padawans and sending them on dangerous assignments. Why are they sending you with us, exactly?"

Jacob sighed, realising that his friend wasn't going to let this go without an answer. "If you must know, they said there's a bond between me and Bastila."

"A bond?" The older man snorted, shaking his head in disbelief. "What kind of bond?"

Bastila, who had been listening with mounting astonishment and irritation, cut in angrily. "That is none of your concern, Carth, and you would do well to leave the matter be."

Carth spun round. "I respect you, Bastila, but you've been as close-mouthed as the rest of the Council. If you won't talk to me, then maybe somebody else will!" He was clearly on the verge of losing his temper altogether. Jacob had no idea what could have prompted this sudden attack of paranoia, but he realised that he needed to calm things down before this got out of control.

"Carth." He stepped forward, trying to keep his voice as calm and steady as possible. "Maybe we ought to discuss this in private?"

Carth seemed about to say something, but then he met Jacob's eyes and seemed to think better of it. He clamped his mouth shut and slowly nodded, his face still hard with anger. The others watched with raised eyebrows as the two men turned and walked up the ramp into the Hawk, both of them looking grim and tense.

Once inside the ship, Jacob immediately rounded on his crewmate. "OK, Carth, what the hell is all this about?"

"I already told you what it's about," Carth shot back. "The Jedi refusing to say what's really going on here. I mean, just look at you – you're a neophyte Padawan who's been saddled with tracking down these Star Maps. Why? Why aren't they keeping you here for training?"

"Could it be that they thought finding the Star Maps was slightly more important?"

Carth snorted again. "So why not send someone else? No, I'm telling you there's more to it than this. They're keeping something from us."

"Well, even if they are, what's that got to do with me?" Suddenly it hit him. "Hang on... that's it, isn't it? Now that I'm a Jedi, you think I can't be trusted. I've become one of the Enemy as far as you're concerned."

The pilot said nothing, leading Jacob to suspect that he'd struck pretty close to the mark. He sighed in frustration, running his fingers through his hair. "All right, I'll tell you exactly what they told me. Somehow – I can't say how – I've formed a bond with Bastila which allows us to share visions. That's how we found the Star Map here in the first place."

Carth looked distinctly skeptical. "You mean to say they told you were 'tied' to her in some way? Is this more of that destiny garbage that the Jedi keep talking about?" He shook his head in disgust. "I don't believe any of this. How could this 'bond' have been created?"

"How am I to know?" Jacob retorted. "As you just said yourself, I've only been a Jedi for four weeks. I don't understand this any better than you do. If you think I've been initiated into some sort of massive Jedi conspiracy, think again!"

"Oh no?" The pilot took a step forward, almost shaking with anger and resentment. "Well, I'll tell you this: I'm not going to wait around until I'm betrayed again!"

"Oh, for Force's sake!" Jacob knew that Carth's experiences had left him paranoid and mistrustful, but this was unbelievable. He leaned forward and grabbed the other man by the shoulders, trying to suppress the urge to give him a good shaking. "Listen to me, Carth: I'm on your side. I am not going to betray you, all right? I. Am. Not. Saul!"

He almost spat out the last few words before releasing his grip on Carth and stepping back, lowering clenched fists to his sides. The Republic soldier scowled back at him, bitterness and distrust written clearly across his face. "Well, we'll just see about that, won't we?" he growled.

At that moment it took all Jacob's self-control not to shoot out a fist and punch his lights out. Instead, he took a deep breath and waited until he could trust himself to speak again. "All right, Carth," he said at last. "If you're determined to think I'm a Sith, go ahead. Maybe we can talk again when you've taken your medication."

He stomped off into the central section and flung himself down into a chair, unwilling to face the others again until he'd calmed down a bit. Sithspit! What the hell was wrong with everyone lately? He'd never thought of himself as a particularly irritable person, but there were times when his companions' behaviour would test the patience of a saint.

If I do end up as a Sith Lord, he thought sourly, it won't be my fault. Between Bastila's lectures, Carth's rabid paranoia and Canderous's incessant yakking about his glorious warrior past, it was enough to turn anyone to the Dark Side.