Rian:
"Click."
"Hush."
"Click."
"Stop it."
"Click."
"You're infuriating."
"Cl—"
"Rian, I mean it!" Bastila snapped. "Why do you insist on being so juvenile?"
I groaned. "I can't take this. It feels like we've been trapped in here forever."
"It's only been about two hours," Bastila said. "You need to learn how to calm yourself."
"Two hours?" I wanted to die. "How long before we leave hyperspace?"
"Another two days at the most," Bastila answered.
"Can't you just kill me and get it over with?" I begged.
"The thought had crossed my mind, yes," Bastila replied.
"To hell with this," I decided. "I don't need this. Damn Wookiee."
I stood up and stretched, before I walked towards my footlocker. When I was about a yard away, I felt the tug of the stun cuff on my wrist that connected me to Bastila. I gave it a jerk, but the other woman wouldn't budge.
"No," she said simply.
"Why not?" I demanded.
"No," she repeated. "Do you honestly think I don't know what's in your footlocker?"
"Do you honestly think I care?" I snorted.
I gave the cuff a strong yank. In full lotus, Bastila ignored me. I growled and put my entire body into it. The Force was wrapped around me in an instant and I was flung, face first, into the floor in the opposite direction I was aiming for.
"What is your problem?" I demanded.
"At the moment?" Bastila asked. "Quite a few things, actually."
"You've just made another for yourself," I growled.
I balled my hands into fists and lunged at her. But there was the Force again. And there was the floor again.
"You're very powerful, I'll give you that," Bastila said. "But you lack training, so no amount of directionless strength will be enough to defeat me."
"It wasn't directionless," I huffed. "I was trying to reach your throat."
"How predictable." Bastila sighed. "Sit and meditate with me. It will help to focus you."
"I don't want focus." I slumped down beside her. "That's the problem."
"What do you mean?" Bastila asked. "Chin up, straighten your back."
"Bastila, do you remember your father?"
"Of course I do," she replied. "Why?"
"I have no memory of my father," I said. "What was he like?"
"My father?"
I nodded. The good thing about surviving on a diet that primarily consists of booze is that you have a tendency to blackout and therefore are too incoherent to have any nightmares that may or may not belong to you or any sort of troublesome contradictory memories sprouting up. The not so positive thing about surviving on a diet that primarily consists of booze is that you also have a tendency to constantly feel groggy, sluggish and just plain old sleepy. As I tried to pretend to meditate, I fought to keep my head upright.
"Keep in mind that I was very young when I left for the Order," Bastila said hesitantly. "But I still remember him fondly."
"You and your father were close?" My eyelids drooped.
"He was kind and gentle and doted on me." Bastila smiled.
"Do you know why I came to see you?" Grandad asked.
"Because you brought me treats." The dark haired child grinned.
"My mother, however, was different," Bastila continued. "I was not on good terms with my mother. I was only a little girl when I left, but I was old enough to resent her and the way she treated my father."
"Will you go to sleep if I sing to you?" Mama asked.
"Okay," the girl sighed.
"She pushed my father into treasure hunting," Bastila said. "I spent all my young life on ships traveling from one false lead to the next. She whittled away my father's entire fortune and I hated her for it. I think she was relieved to give me to the Jedi, but my father was heartbroken."
"Did your mother ever sing for you?" I asked.
"My mother?" Bastila raised an eyebrow. "No. My mother never sang for me."
"No?" I yawned. "That's too bad."
"Well, I had a grandmother that would," Bastila offered. "But I only saw her when Mother was fed up with me interfering with my parents' treasure hunting."
"Did you ever try to get in touch with your father again?" I asked.
Bastila sighed. She closed her eyes and pretended to be too deep in meditation to hear me.
"Bastila?"
No response.
"Bastila?"
Her eyebrow twitched, but her mouth stayed shut.
"You can't ignore me forever," I decided. "Why are you trying to shut me out?"
Bastila slowly opened her eyes and directed a glare at me.
"Sometimes I think I truly detest you," she said.
"Only sometimes?" I snorted. "You could have fooled me on that one."
"A Padawan must receive considerable training," Bastila murmured. "They must learn to control their emotions and darker impulses. Often this takes years before using the Force can be considered safe. The fact that you had such relatively little training could have terrible consequences. For you and for everyone else."
"Not you too." I groaned. "Poor little neophyte Padawan being thrown into a rancor pit by those mean, dastardly Masters."
"Carth?"
"None of your damn business."
"I disapprove of your dealings with that man," Bastila said quietly. "There are so many dangerous emotions that explode from both of you whenever the other is near. It's frightening to be honest."
"What about your father?" I changed the subject. "Haven't you contacted him since you joined the Order?"
"No," Bastila replied. "A child is too young to understand the sacrifices that must be made. It is better if they have no contact with their family once they are removed. Once I was older I realized the wisdom of this policy. A Jedi must do what is needed, personal desires notwithstanding. Love can only obscure and confuse the matter."
"You sound very sad when you say that," I realized.
She shrugged.
"Even a Jedi cannot always control the feelings of the heart," Bastila said. "We must do our best to guard against it, no matter what the cost. But some sacrifices are harder than others…"
She trailed off and refused to look at me.
"Well," I announced. "I'm going to grab a little something out of my footlocker."
"No."
"I wasn't asking," I grumbled.
"But I was telling you no," Bastila replied.
Bastila had said I was powerful in the Force. She couldn't be the only one that could move a body with telekinesis. I stood and wrapped her in a ball of Force energy.
The other woman was as light as a thought as I levitated her and pulled her along with me. Bastila spluttered indignantly, but I was in control now. I flipped the latch to my footlocker open and pulled out a bottle.
Almost immediately it shattered in my hands. I swore and turned to face a smirking Bastila. I wiped the sticky liquid off on her Jedi robe.
"How dare you!" Bastila groped at her now stained robe.
"What the hell was that for?" I exclaimed.
"I won't let you drink yourself to death," she declared. "Despite what you think, you're much too important to die."
"What do you think I should do, then?" I bellowed.
"I don't think there is much you can do." Bastila finally broke free from my telekinetic grip. "If things were different I would recommend several years of training under one of the Jedi Masters. But I fear that won't be possible."
She sat back down and I was pulled down with her.
"Thankfully you have exhibited a degree of compassion, although your self-control is lacking," she said. "I sincerely hope you can acquire that trait in the near future."
"What if I don't?" I wove my fingers, sticky with brandy, together.
"Then I fear the worst," Bastila replied. "We must all resist the influence of the Dark Side. It's everything we are fighting against. This is doubly important for you with your natural affinity to the Force."
"Why are you getting so upset?" I asked.
"I'm sorry if I come across as harsh." Bastila averted her eyes. "But I am concerned. For you, for our mission. And for myself."
"Yourself?" I teased. "But aren't you a pillar of good Jediness?"
Her cheeks burned scarlet.
"Our destinies are intertwined," she sniffed. "Because of our bond, everything one of us does will have consequences for the other. Any reckless behavior on your part is likely to affect me as well."
A grin spread across my face.
"So, if Carth and I decide to—"
"Enough, Rian!" Bastila snapped.
"It was just a thought."
"The thought was more than enough for me, let me assure you!"
I stifled a giggle with the back of my hand.
"Look," I managed between my laughter. "It works both ways, doesn't it? You could help me stay strong."
"Some things, Force or no, may be impossible," Bastila muttered.
"Come on!" I guffawed.
"I suppose that's true," Bastila grudgingly said. "I will try my best, but I am no Master. Not yet. But when you need guidance or advice or support I will do what I can to help you stay on the path of light."
"Like sing to me," I suggested.
"What?" Bastila exclaimed.
"Sing to me," I repeated.
"Let's try meditating." Bastila pulled her legs back into the lotus position.
"We already tried that," I said. "It did wonders for my focus, I swear. Now I want you to sing."
"I don't sing," Bastila stammered. "You're making a ridiculous demand."
"Come on," I pestered her. "I figured I'd try getting a nap without using any sleep aids."
"What does me singing have anything to do with that?" Bastila demanded.
"My mother used to sing to me." I shrugged. "It's soothing. It's better to concentrate on that rather than on if Darth Revan will think to cameo in my dreams or not."
"But I don't sing," Bastila protested.
"It's not that difficult."
"I don't know any words."
"Make them up."
Bastila sighed.
"You are a horrible pain," she said. "Sometimes I wonder if I would have been better off if I let you catch a transport to Corellia."
"Does this mean you're going to sing?" I asked.
"Hush," she urged.
I plopped back on the floor of the dormitories and stretched out. Bastila shook her head, but began to hum. A mezzo-soprano, she wasn't half bad. She would fall flat on some of the higher notes, but the eerie and melancholy melody was pleasing. Like a distant memory. My sleep was both dreamless and peaceful.
