I rubbed my wet hands on my required black jacket, not paying any mind to the alien languages and smells that filled the air around me. The cantina could be described as a place of gathering for friends and enemies alike, and the perfect place for someone to hide if they really, really wanted to.

Bounty hunters came here to relax, not look for someone who'd been on the bounty list for five years already, and stormtroopers rarely came inside for anything but routine inspection of the supply room. In all honesty, it still caused me minor heart attacks every time a well known bounty hunter swung open the doors to the cantina, and every time the sound of a TIE fighter swooped by.

"Chuba!" A voice grumbled from my left in Huttese, making me snap out of my trance and look at the large, bulky alien sitting on the stool in front of me. "Andoba!"

I nodded my head in understanding, quickly throwing together the Grungoworm Tequila he always seemed to order, trying not to feel squeamish as I tossed a few live worms in the cup and began shaking it vigorously. As soon as I finished, I slid the cup down to the man and rested my arms on the bar in front of me. The band started playing a different song and my heart leapt into my throat for a moment as strings of the melody popped out at me like blaster bolts.

They panged against my heartstrings as the nostalgia of the once strong Republic bounced around the walls of the bar, making the whole building fall quiet. This type of music-it was illegal. The band continued on bravely, and I closed my eyes for what seemed like an eternity, letting the music fill my soul like it would be the last time I'd ever hear it. Damn the Empire and their obsession to take away everything my people had once loved dearly.

I didn't even bother looking up as blaster fire erupted in the building, and the band stopped playing gradually, one instrument after the next until the music had completely ceased. Opening my eyes, a few Empire-loyal consumers stood with their blasters drawn, and on the stage laid the band, now with smoking holes adorning their outfits. I sighed, took out a cloth, and began wiping down the surface in front of me, trying to keep my face as lowered as possible as three stormtroopers rushed in, taking in the sight and immediately asking questions.

"What happened?" One of them asked, their voice as impersonal as always as white armour reflected the red and pink lava lamps surrounding the room.

No one responded, looking to see who would dare to answer.

"You!"

My heart dropped and I looked up to see both the troopers and the customers staring at me intensely, wondering what I would say.

I cleared my throat and set down the cloth I clenched tightly in my hand, forcing myself to remain calm. "They started playing music outlawed by the Empire. They were killed."

I tried to keep it as simple as possible.

The stormtrooper in front seemed to look me up and down before he nodded. "Next time, report them to us before taking action upon yourselves. Understand?"

I nodded in response, as well as the majority of my customers.

"We'll have someone take care of the bodies."

The stormtroopers stared at me, waiting for my response.

I forced myself to smile slightly and push down the bile rising in my throat at the words I managed to spit out next. "Thank you."

They nodded, and left.

Shaking my head, I leaned on the bar and stretched my back, which ached from a day full of standing. Tris Esta's Cantina always stayed chaotically calm, with only the glow of pink and blue lava lamps lighting up the large room, and the darkly colored walls were lined with orange booths.

"Clearly, I can never leave you in charge again."

Without twirling around, I could picture Masin behind me, her brown eyes twinkling, blue hair laid gently on each shoulder, a recognizable smirk painted across her freckled face. In response, I simply sighed and looked behind me to gaze into her soft, brown eyes. They were sparkling with amusement.

"You do know that four people just died here on your watch."

I half-smiled at the sarcasm and crossed my arms over my chest, suddenly realizing that now, the only sounds in the cantina were laughter, yelling, and conversations. Just like usual, life carried on after the Empire killed even the smallest remnants of the Republic. Masin seemed to sense my unease and studied me with caring eyes, her sharp features jutting out even more as she screwed his face up. "What?" She asked.

Not wanting to start this conversation, I shook my head and turned away, waving for our BR-2481 droid to take my place as I headed into the Employee Room of the cantina.

"You're not going to tell me what that troubled face is for?"

Thankfully, I realized my shift ended in a few minutes anyway, and ignored Masin as I kept walking. She didn't know it, but as much as I appreciated the concern she showed for me, making attachments became more of a hindrance for me than anything else. Things became too dangerous if I started to care about people, and I already knew from past experiences that it hurts like hell when those people are ripped away from you.

So I didn't tell Masin that my heart ached for the music those aliens had been playing. I didn't tell her that every part of my body wanted to hear those notes play longer, swirling through the air and becoming a part of the world around me. I didn't tell her how much the music of the Republic became both a catalyst for my pain and a reliever. And as much as I wanted to, I didn't tell Masin good-bye as I threw open the metal door that led to the endless markets and freeways of Taris.

Rain torrented down from the night sky, hurtling at me like they intended to drive right through me and continue their path to the ground. The static sound of water hitting land buzzed in my ears, and the black work smock I always wore clung to my body like a magnet. Under my eyes, bags of exhaustion were starting to form, and suddenly, I had a desperate desire to no longer be alone. And just like every other day after the Purge, the thought of running and hiding for the rest of my life sickened me.

Even thinking about the event made my heart twist in anxiety, and I could feel memories prying at me like they were trying to open the door into my mind. I pushed away the claws that scrabbled at my head and focused my eyes on the muddy sidewalk in front of me. Getting home became the priority, and getting there unharmed would make my day even better.

Building after building passed me by, and I didn't have to look up to know exactly where each step would take me. I had this sector completely memorized, in case anything happened, and knew every single entry point and exit by heart. Pink neon light bounced off the puddle beneath me, providing unneeded assurance as to what I passed next.

Twi'lek Tattoos, I thought as I walked by, hearing the familiar sound of one of Lyn Me's newest songs filtering through the metal and stonework.

The Twi'lek women in that store had covered up the tattoo that had once been planted proudly on the cuff of my arm. Now, instead of an honorable symbol of peace, the mark of my eternal enemy branded my skin, and the black ink blotched there would forever stain me. My boot stopped at a curbside, and without looking up, I knew I just had to cross this street before entering my apartment complex and finally being able to rest. Something unsettled in my stomach though, almost like the street held some sort of significance that only the future knew.

A planet of cities: that's how I described Taris to anyone who asked about it. Or one big city if you looked at it a certain way. In the Upper City, towers of grey stuck up into the sky like skyscrapers of metallic grass. Nearly all of them looked as if someone had taken a circle, stretched it as far as they could, and stuck the damn thing into the ground. That's what it had looked like before it had been destroyed, but I didn't know nearly enough about the history of the Upper City to know when that happened.

Ever since I got here, the sound of constant welding and yelling Scrappers filled the air, but evidently it didn't stop the wealthier humans there from living elegantly in their sky palaces. They didn't like it when anyone nonhuman made an appearance up there, with the exception of Scrappers, who were doing their best to keep a low profile if human blood didn't course through their veins.

Just below the skyline sat the Middle City, where humans and aliens could mingle, and this portion of the city definitely outshined the exteriors of the Upper one, since they had to fix the base of towers before the top. This level was where the freeways were, and where thousands of hovering swoop bikes, Imperial Transports, and garbage barges zoomed by at high speeds.

The Lower City is where I lived. Where I hid, rather, but it seemed like every soul who knew they were Force-sensitive was trying to hide these days. Here, no one asked questions, and everyone minded their own business, since they all had secrets they'd rather not tell anyone. It was better than being in the Undercity, I supposed, but I'd never been down there to see for myself (not that I ever would).

I sighed as I reached the darkly bricked building that was my home and looked up, angling my head nearly the whole way back in order to look all the way up to the top of the curved tower. My building had been one of the first to be repaired, luckily, but the Empire had made sure not to use any nice materials for the bottom of the structures, since they were meant for non-wealthy residents like me.

It was like this at nearly every building-dark brick and metal making up the bottom of the skyscrapers that turned into chrome with gold accents at the top. Fumbling through my pocket for a moment, I pulled out a small plastic card and swiped it roughly against the key reader, not bothering to look at the door as it popped open.

Shaking my head, I entered the building quickly, stepping onto the moldy red carpet silently and closing the door behind me.

"You're gettin' water on me carpet, ye filthy Aldaaranian!"

I jumped slightly at the familiar screech and scowled as a small alien with red skin looked at me with large, narrowed eyes from down the small hallway. Looking down at my clothes, I realized that I was, indeed, dripping wet, but I simply slicked back my brown hair with one hand. "Jumper," My voice was quiet as I spoke. "Maybe next time you should put a rug here so someone can wipe their feet off."

The small alien came up to my knee, but I still felt slightly intimidated as she growled at me. "I should kick ye out just fer that tongue, missy!" Her thick accent made every word sound foreign but I rolled my eyes.

"Whatever, Jumper." I shook off my coat a little bit on her carpet, watching with amusement as she let out a scream of horror before striding past her and up the stairs. "How many payments have I missed?" I stopped as I spoke, leaning against the dark banister and looking at her with curious eyes.

Jumper seemed to bristle in her dirty, dark blue pantsuit, wiping at the footprints I was leaving. She was my land-lady, the one I paid rent to, and she hadn't asked any questions when I'd shown up at her door with an injured shoulder, and very obvious desperation. Five years, and she still hadn't asked me where I had come from, or who I was.

She grumbled an answer incoherently.

"What was that, Jumper?"

"Ye haven't missed any payments, ya moof-milker." Her voice was gentler this time and she smiled at me slightly. "Now get 'cher doshin' self up those stairs before I kick ya out fer real!"

I let a grin escape me and bounded up the rest of the stairs, taking a quick left at the top to find myself standing in front of the rusting metal door I called my own. Using the same card as downstairs, the door popped open with a click, and I entered my apartment. It was still messy since I hadn't cleaned in about a week, and there were dirty socks and shirts scattered across the floor haphazardly.

Letting the door shut behind me, I threw the plastic card onto the kitchen counter and kicked off my wet boots with more energy than I wanted to put forth. I peeled the socks off my feet, grimacing at their dampness and throwing them in the dirty laundry hamper as I passed it. My box of Gorg Nuggets was still sitting on the counter, unfinished, and I grabbed one as I swept by, stuffing it into my mouth and taking off my work jacket in a few quick jerks.

My apartment was smaller sized, only with enough space for a living/kitchen area, as well as a small bedroom and a bathroom. It was dimly lit, with one circular yellow light in each room that rarely provided me with any visibility at all. There were no windows in the room, which made it slightly dangerous, but I could find my way out if I needed to.

As messy as it was in there, there was always a large circle cleared on the floor in my living room, enough for me to sit in a pretzel and meditate. My rule was that I was allowed to explore the Force in my mind, delving into its mysteries and keeping its power close to me as much as possible, but I was never ever allowed to use the Force. If I did, I had no doubt the Jedi Hunters would be able to track where it came from.

I sighed at the thought and plopped down on the floor gratefully, my feet sore from a day of standing and serving. Even 5 years after the Great Jedi Purge, I was still hiding-still running. The Force seemed to call out to me every day, as if it were an old friend that missed me dearly. And as much as I longed to have that power flowing through my veins once again, I knew that if I wanted to live, I had to retain it.

That didn't stop my nightmares, and the man in the hood still haunted me as my eyes fluttered shut.