Daven's first conscious feeling was actually bewilderment. How could the human body still be alive and in this much pain at the same time? Everything from his head to his thighs ached.
He rose slowly, making sure not to put too much strain on his chest – some ribs felt like they were bruised – and pulled a rough, woolen blanket away from his body. He was thankful, if a bit stunned, to notice the bacta on some of his larger cuts.
He found his clothes cleaned, but not folded, and resting on the table beside the bed. He looked around thoughtfully, noting that he was in a standard med bay. Near as he could see a various array of antidote, stim, and pain relieving medjars lined the shelves along two of the walls. A small but expensive bacta tank sat against the third wall.
Only a bounty hunter like Nyssa would be able to afford such a convenient tool. Daven smiled at the thought of how much she might have needed it after one of their confrontations.
But the smile turned into a gruff grimace at the knowledge that he was, of course, most likely still board the Gray Star and in Nyssa's custody. He sighed, but realized that this was no time to feel sorry for himself. Nyssa had a reason for leaving him alive, and he decided that, if he wanted to stay that way, he would have to find out what it was.
He dressed carefully but quickly, and slowly made his way out to see the rest of the ship. His steps were cautious, not for sheath or for grace, but for the fear of some broken bone he had yet to find.
Vader had been stronger than he expected. It wasn't his physical strength, but his mastery of the Force that had overwhelmed Daven's defenses. It made sense, though, now that he knew exactly who Vader was. Used to be, rather.
Anakin Skywalker had always found a strong ally in the Force. If he had studied more, studied as much as he should have, Daven could have imagined that Anakin would have someday overtaken the Masters in skill.
Well, apparently he had, Daven thought bitterly, feeling a small amount of bile rise in his throat at the memory of the brutal attack on the Temple.
He found himself in the main comms room, but there was no sign of Nyssa. He turned to leave, but a transparasteel galactic map on the far wall caught his attention. Walking over to it, he noticed the small lights that flicked at various places across the galaxy. The glowpins were stuck, he soon realized as he followed the path with his finger, onto each of the systems he had sought refuge in during his exile. Nyssa had probably placed them there to trace a pattern of his wanderings in an attempt to predict where she might find him next.
The lines of dots and dates, however, were completely random, to his satisfaction.
He ran his thumb along the small pegs, tracking where they led, color by color, and tried to remember each of the planets he had visited. His mind came up empty on nearly half of them as he attempted to recall what the spaceport's appearance or even the face of a single native citizen.
So many places, yet he never stopped to gain any knowledge of them. He had nothing to show for all his adventures but a pair of worn out pilot trousers and a jacket. By the Force, he couldn't remember where he had obtained either of them. He didn't even have his old Jedi tunics or his lightsaber. Both had been left on Corellia – one in an abandoned, low-rent apartment, the other in the hands of Darth Vader.
Their loss, as trivial as it was, suddenly made Daven feel homesick. The Temple, now burnt to ashes for all he knew, would no longer be there to welcome him. Neither would the Masters, who were all dead by his estimation.
He felt highly un-Jedi-like – after all, what was left for a Jedi in this galaxy now? – as he placed the last pin, a neon green one, on the Corellian system.
"I always use the orange pins for planets that I've actually found you on," Nyssa told him. Her voice was surprisingly gentle, sad almost. "Although I was thinking of using a red one for the system where I finally caught you."
He turned to face her and was somewhat shocked by her appearance. Gone were the tight fitting, gray combat suit and utility vest. In their place she wore loose, cream colored slacks and a matching, equally baggy tunic. Her feet were bare and she wasn't wearing her weapons belt nor holding a blaster. Her hair was tied back in a simple braid, but a few renegade blonde strands fell around her face.
She looked absolutely beautiful in Daven's eyes. As much as he didn't want to, he took his eyes off her face to stare at the ground in a lame attempt to stop his cheeks from turning red.
He had always thought that Nyssa was gorgeous beyond compare. His Master would have probably laughed if he had ever lived to see Daven feel attracted to a woman, but the rest of the Order would have ridiculed or condemned him. Such things were – had been? – forbidden.
"You must be hungry, thirsty," Nyssa continued, perplexed by Daven's uncharacteristic silence. "Here, sit down. I'll get you some food." She walked off towards the small kitchen.
Only after he heard the cling-clang of metal eating utensils did Daven dare to look up and take a seat at the table in the center of the galley. He rubbed his face and eyes roughly with his heads, trying to remove the last remnants of fatigue. If Nyssa was up to something, he would have to be ready. Though what she could possibly be planning to do to him while weaponless and shoeless was beyond his grasp.
He glanced up as Nyssa returned with his meal. He was exhausted, curious, and hungry, even if he wasn't ready to admit such a fact to Nyssa.
"I hope you like nerf soup," she said with an amiable smile.
He took the bowl she offered but didn't immediately eat. Instead, he watched her suspiciously as she took her seat opposite him. She placed her arms on the table – a small indication of peace.
"You should eat," she told him, concerned. "You've been out for nearly a day. I don't have any nutrient packs or I would have given you one. I wasn't able to get you to drink anything, either."
Daven tried not to draw a metal image of Nyssa forcibly pouring water down his throat, which still ached from Vader's chokehold. But he was hungry, painfully hungry, and the soup smelled wonderful.
If Nyssa wanted to kill him, she could have done it already, so the food wasn't likely poisoned, and the Force wasn't giving off any warning. In fact, for some reason, he was sensing that Nyssa's hostility towards him had decreased dramatically since the time he last saw her.
So he ate. His body screamed and demanded that he shovel the food in his mouth as quickly as possible, but his honed manners kept the urge at bay. The bowl was still emptied in record time, though.
He saw Nyssa hide a smile behind her hand in the edge of his vision. He paused momentarily, stiffening in an attempt to keep his composure as he ate. Despite this, a small line, not nearly a wrinkle, appeared on his brow when he had finished the soup. His stomach still ached and begged for more sustenance, but his mind fought the need.
"Do you want some more?"
His head shot up and he made fierce eye contact with Nyssa, shaking his head no. He would only take from her what was absolutely necessary for his immediate survival.
"No, thank you," he said gruffly, remembering proper etiquette at the last possible moment.
She nodded, not bothering to push him. "Would you like some caff, then?"
"Why did you help me?" he blurted out, ignoring her offer. His voice may have been soft, but his eyes fanatically searched hers for some reasoning.
"I've known you for a long time, Daven," she started in a cool and professional voice. "I've seen what you can do, how well you fight. So I would like to make a proposition." She faltered, the last of her words rising in pitch almost unnoticeably.
"A proposition?" His voice was harsh and his eyes narrowed. "Sorry, beautiful, I'm not a contract assassin, so, either kill me now or–"
"Hear me out, Daven," she interrupted him, holding her hands up in a pacifying gesture. "I'm not talking about bounty hunting."
He regarded her suspiciously, but she had so far sparked his interest, even if it was only out of mere curiosity.
"Smuggling," she continued, reaching the conclusion of her plan. "This empire has made contraband more goods in the past three years than the Old Republic did in its entire existence. The market's ripe and the pay's good. We've got the ship and, with my experience and your tactics … well, just think of what would be in our favor!" Her voice finished on a high note, as if to generate the same excitement in Daven that she herself obviously felt.
The Jedi's cold expression reminded unchanged, however, but he did raise a single eyebrow in a questioning stare.
"Why me?" he asked when he saw that her enthusiasm was undeterred by his gaze. "I'm not exactly smuggler material. Vader will still be on my tail. He'll keep looking for me until I'm dead. And then there's the two million credit bounty that you are, were, whatever, so keen on collecting. I think other bounty hunters might be interested, don't you? Why take the risk?"
"You can disguise yourself," she said, her voice barely showing an underlining sign of desperateness. "I know places where you can buy a whole new identity. Vader's got an empire to run. He'll stop looking for you if you hide. We'll wait a few months before we start–"
"It doesn't work like that, beautiful," he hissed, more so out of annoyance than anything close to anger. "Vader will not stop."
"What makes you say that?"
"Anakin wouldn't stop." His voice held an air of dejection.
"Who?" Nyssa asked, not bothering to hide her bewilderment.
"Never mind," he said softly, wishing to change the subject. He waved his hand as if sweeping away the topic of Vader altogether. "It doesn't matter anymore." His heart was still sunken, but there was nothing he could about the past now. "You didn't answer my question, Nyssa," he reminded her. "Why me?" He looked at her with morose azure eyes, but his gaze was steady, ready to plan for the uncertain future.
"Why not?" Nyssa returned, lowering her head to focus on the table. "I already told you: you're a good fighter."
A slight narrowing of his eyes and the wrinkling of his forehead were the only physical signs of Daven reaching out towards Nyssa's mind with the Force. He hated to violate another sentient like this, especially one he cared for as much as Nyssa, but he had no other choice.
A multitude of emotions and thoughts rushed at him, unfocused, dizzying, but he forced himself through them, sorting them out of chaos and into his own understanding. Most were unintelligible – the lyrics of the last song she had heard, what she dreamed about last night – but one feeling swelled up to the surface more than the others.
Please, let him just believe me. He can't know, not yet.
"You're lying," he said flatly as he pulled out of her mind. He could have gone deeper and discover exactly what truth she was trying to hide from him, but he owed her his life, and he would not ravage her psyche any further than he absolutely needed to.
"I'm not, Daven," Nyssa nearly exclaimed. Before she realized what she was doing, she reached out to touch his hand with her own. Fingers grazed fingers for only a moment before Daven jerked his arm away as if he had been burnt.
"Well, then, what are you hiding?" he asked aggressively, rising to his feet just so he could be further away from her.
Looking hurt, she wrapped her arms around her abdomen protectively and brought her knees up to her chest. The toes of her bare feet hung loosely off the edge of the chair.
Daven's expression was rough and cold in spite of her sullen position. There was no love in his eyes as he stared down at her.
"I can't tell you," she admitted softly. "But you have to trust me. I don't want to hurt you anymore."
"You're right, I have to trust you," Daven agreed bitterly. "But, forgive me, bounty hunter, if I don't cartwheel in joy."
"I hate you, Jedi," she growled darkly as if she actually meant it this time.
"Likewise." It was the first time that he ever had said anything negative in response to Nyssa's "I hate you" line. Normally he was amused when she said it, knowing that her hatred wasn't anything really close to genuine. But the feeling of betrayal left a bitter taste in his mouth and he could bring himself to feel anything but contempt for her now.
"Look," Daven continued more calmly a moment later, feeling guilty for being so uncharacteristically cruel. "I don't understand you. I don't know why you rescued me or why you are keeping me alive. I never even understood why a person like you would even want to hunt bounties in the first place. But I will take your word that you're not going to collect my bounty, if you let me go."
"I will," Nyssa agreed sadly but without hesitation. "Just tell me where you want to go."
Daven's eyes widened, and it was clear that he hadn't expected her consent. He nodded slowly and sat back down, folding his hands together upon the table.
"All right." His voice had been able to return to its usual level of pleasantness, even if his face still could not match. "Have you ever heard of a world called Maylass Five?" Nyssa shook her head. "Well, there have been rumors that it holds a gateway base for a rebel alliance against the Empire."
Nyssa bit the inside of her cheek, obviously contemplating his choice of destinations. A gateway cell of such an organization would probably be easy enough to find and fairly defenseless, given that its sole purpose was to take in new recruits, run them through a background check, and assign them to an active, military cell.
"You're going to join the rebellion?" At his nod, she sighed. "What good will that do?"
"It is the right choice," Daven told her firmly. "They can help me escape the bounty hunters far better than you can and maybe even escape Vader, to some extent. I've wasted too much time running, Nyssa. I may not be able to defeat Vader or Palpatine in battle – especially not Palpatine – but I can help defeat them in the war. It is the way of the Jedi, the only way left."
"You think there'll be war?" Nyssa asked wearily.
"Is it even a question anymore?" Daven mused rhetorically. "I think the question you should be asking yourself is which side you want to be on."