So it's been a busy... however many days. Updating has always been on my mind, but life has truly been the never ending loop of "the years start coming and they don't stop coming." Then I got a job and was like "yay I can pay down debt" … right before I found out I needed like, approximately $4400 in dental work. And possibly a new tire on my car. And 8000 other things.

You don't think it's gonna be like that and then you do.

Anyway, so, I'm back. I'm hoping having some semblance of a proper schedule (even if it's killer for my sleep schedule to work 8-5) will help me update regularly. I'm into Iziz, at least, I just need to figure out how much I'm actually pulling from the game and how of the much murder plot I really care for.

Thank you all for your patience with my dumbass self, and let's get right back to it!


Trista avoided the cockpit until she'd normally join Atton to while away the hours of boredom. For a bit she thought she wouldn't go up at all, but she was a creature of habit. Part of her hoped he'd just kick her out, or still have the door closed, but an even larger part did, somehow, actually... miss him? It was an alien thought. She'd lived alone too long for that nonsense.

But, as always, she dug up some of the alcohol stash, poured two glasses, and padded her way to the cockpit. Unlike before, the door stood open, and the ghostly blue hue of lightspeed shimmered in strange shadows off the consoles and switches. She assumed that meant he was willing to talk, though how that would look was an unknown. Atton was still in the pilot's seat as always, the top of his head just visible over the headrest.

He addressed her before she'd even opened her mouth as she hovered, conflicted, in the door.

"Tris?"

Trista cleared her throat. "Uh, yeah, hi."

Atton didn't answer, save for a heavy, frustrated-sounding sigh. She turned back for the main hold before he cut her off.

"I'm a deserter."

She stopped.

"It's what I do. I get involved, and then I run. And that's why you shouldn't trust me. Eventually I'll up and disappear, and that'll be the end of that."

Okay. She could work with that. It wasn't surprising, not really. Trista stepped inside.

"What'd you desert from?"

"I was in both wars, Mandalorian and Jedi. No surprise on that first one, given our last conversation."

"On what side? Republic, I presume? You don't strike me as a Mandalorian."

"C'mon, I'm trying to be serious for once." It wasn't an utterly humorless reply, at least. "But yeah, Republic. At first."

He still hadn't quite looked at her. "A lot of us lost our faith. Revan was the only reason we won that war, and we all knew it. We would've done anything she asked. So when she returned we signed up, no questions asked. Sith teachings had been circulating in the ranks, yeah, but them coming back as full-ass Sith Lords was enough. They said the Republic needed to change, and they'd beaten the Mandalorians... we wanted her in charge. We needed her in charge. That was all we knew."

Trista settled into the copilot's seat again, putting his glass on the center console. Atton didn't reach for it.

"That's understandable, but you could have told me. I wasn't going to judge anyone for jumping the Republic ship."

He stared at the viewport, unmoving, hardly even blinking. She wasn't sure she'd ever seen him so subdued. "There's... more than that."

"Go on."

"Revan knew the war wouldn't be between us. You know, normal people. It'd be between Jedi, and come down to whoever had the most, or the strongest. So she had people trained to hunt Jedi, to capture and break them — or kill them, if they wouldn't come around. It was important for them to see her side, I think. I don't know, I didn't ask questions.

"But I was one of them — one of the best." Trista studied him, but he was still staring ahead into the implacable anonymity of lightspeed. "I spent the first couple years of the war tracking Jedi, torturing them until they broke or died. Before I left, I had the highest body count out of all of us."

She joined him in staring into hyperspace, turning his words over even as a weird, unsettling numbness overtook her.

"Why did you leave, if you were that good?"

Atton wait long enough that she wondered if he was going to shut down — or if that just hadn't been the question he'd expected.

"There was a Jedi," he answered with a heavy finality.

"One you captured?"

"No, she found me. She sought me out, saying she'd seen me and come to save me. Told me that..."

He rested his head on the back of the chair and closed his eyes. "Told me I had a touch of the Force inside of me, and I was in danger. That Revan was guaranteed to find out, and I'd disappear and come back... changed, if I came back at all. That I needed to run if I wanted to survive. And I was furious about it."

"So you tortured her."

He nodded. "Yeah. Everything I'd learned, every way I'd been taught to get at a Jedi, I used. And just before..." Atton drew a deep breath. "Right before she died, she opened everything. I saw the Force — I mean, I saw what it looks like to a Jedi. And it terrified me. So I killed her.

"But for the first time, I... felt it. Whatever she did, when she showed me the Force like that, I'd never... been on that end. And the next time I tried to go out in the field, I couldn't. Everything she'd said was true. People had been disappearing out into the Unknown Regions and they'd come back changed, completely devoted, almost no free will. Then someone mentioned one of Revan's Sith showed up asking about me, and..."

"You ran."

He nodded. "Made my way to Nar Shaddaa, took on a new name, blended in. Tried to forget. Picked up smuggling, ended up in jail on an asteroid. Then this girl showed up wearing nothing but her underwear and a sheet, and I still don't know if leaving that cell was the right call."

"Mm." Trista stared back out the window again, and they sat in silence for a while. Atton was stiller than she thought she'd ever seen him, but it took a while to wrestle her own thoughts back into something resembling coherency. "Now what?"

It took Atton a moment to answer, too. "I'm half expecting an airlock."

"Why?"

For the first time, he looked over at her. "I told a Jedi I used to kill Jedi for a living?"

Trista shrugged. "I killed like, a third of the Order by imploding a planet, so I'd say my ability to judge your actions is sorely tempered."

He sighed and looked ahead again. "I'm... sorry I threw all that back at you."

"We both got heated. I'm sorry I let it get that far."

"It's not your fault."

"Vrook Lamar would disagree." This earned a small smile, and she counted that as a win. "Thank you for trusting me."

"Thank you for not airlocking me."

"Who would fly this ship? Kreia?" He snorted. "Are we okay?"

"Honestly, it's kind of refreshing to have all that off my chest." He shifted in his seat with a sigh. "But really... I'm sorry. I shouldn't have thrown Malachor at you like that. I know you still have nightmares."

"How — oh, Telos." Atton nodded. "It's okay. We both got defensive."

They sat in a companionable silence for a moment, before Trista spoke. "Atton?"

"Yeah?"

"Can I try something? It'd... involve me touching your mind, but I swear I won't do anything else. What she said is making me curious."

He didn't answer for a moment until he said a very quiet "uh."

"Sorry, no, forget I asked. I shouldn't ask you to do something uncomfortable just because I'm curious."

Atton didn't answer for another second, then looked over.

"Well, I guess that'd depend on what it was," he drawled.

Trista laughed. "You're disgusting."

"You laughed." She laughed again, and he joined her with a toneless chuckle. "It's fine, go ahead. Just, you know, no funny stuff."

"Don't worry, you can't read minds with the Force. That's a holovid thing."

"Sounds like protecting trade secrets to me."

"Oh, stop." She pulled herself onto the center console and held out her hand. "May I?"

Atton hesitated before reaching out, and she cupped his hand in hers. One of her fingers toyed along a callus under his thumb — she cleared her throat and closed her eyes. As she reached into the Force, Atton flinched. Trista gasped before she could stop herself, and pulled back.

"Sorry."

"You're okay?" she asked.

"Yeah, just wasn't ready for it."

She caught her lip in between her teeth and closed her eyes again, and reached out once more. She carefully brushed the surface, right where she knew to look, right where she expected to find it.

After so long without it, every time she brushed the Force in another person still bore with it surprise. Like she'd forgotten what it looked like to feel the Force inside another living being. But no, there it was, the same familiar web arcing out between them, between them and everyone else on the ship, and she nodded and withdrew.

"Well?" he asked after she opened her eyes.

"Uh." She looked back out the window. "Not sure you'll like the answer."

"I mean, it's not like I don't already know."

"True. I mean, yes. She was right. It isn't just a bit, either. You're probably on par with Mical." Atton scowled, and she frowned. "Stop. You'd probably get along if you could stop acting like a bantha in heat for a second. I know why you ran from it, and why you're afraid of it. You can trust me on that."

She stood, realized she was still holding his hand, and released it with a start. "Thank you for telling me, Atton."

He nodded, and Trista started back toward her chair when something stopped her. Atton had grabbed her hand again, and she looked back at him.

"Look, Tris, uh." He started, promptly letting go of her and not meeting her eyes. "I don't know why she came after me. I'm nothing important, never was. But when I saw you on Peragus I thought, maybe you were why. Maybe this was where I was meant to be, protecting you. And wherever we go now the Sith are going to be all over us. I don't like the idea, but if learning to use it might help me protect you..."

She blinked once as he trailed off, then again as she registered what he was saying.

"Are you... asking me to train you?" He nodded. "This isn't because of Mical, is it?"

"What? No! Screw Mical. I mean, don't do that. Unless you want to, but you shouldn't. I'm going to shut up now."

Trista couldn't help her brow as it arched of its own accord. "Atton—"

"No, it's—" He settled back in the chair, shaking his head. "Forget I said anything."

"That's not — it's difficult, Atton. I want you to be sure. It's something you can't run from once you start."

"Tris, we're dealing with a whole-ass Sith Lord. Three of 'em. If it's gonna increase my longevity the next time we come across Vibroblades, I'll take it."

"If you're sure." She frowned. "Three?"

"Or two, or whatever. But yes, I'm sure."

Trista pulled him forward, behind the center console, and settled on the floor. "Have a seat."

Atton sat down across from her, mimicking her posture, and she held out her hands. He took them.

"I need you to relax and focus. And to open your mind again — but not to me, to the life around us."

"We're in space."

"On a ship with living beings."

"...yeah."

"Focus on me — my life, my heartbeat. Find the spark in the Force sitting across from you, and find that inside you. Focus on what you feel when you rush to protect me. Reach for that, let it in, and let it flow through you." A grinding noise interrupted her for a moment, and she stumbled over what she was saying. "O-open your mind to it, willingly this time."

Oh, that's what that was. "Stop grinding your teeth."

The noise stopped. "Sorry."

"Keep focusing. Focus on the life you sense, even out here in space." She paused, reaching forward. "There's a ship ahead of us. Do you sense it?"

"About two parsecs out?"

"You checked the radar earlier."

"Well... yes."

"But yes, that's it. Can you sense the life there? Reach out until you do."

She paused until he said, "...yeah. Okay."

"What does it feel like?"

He spoke at almost the same time. "Is this what it's like? Being a Jedi?"

"There's more to it but, yes, at its core this is it. Focus more on that spark — do you see how easy it would be for it to be snuffed out? How small it is against the galaxy?" He nodded. "That is life. That's what we fight and struggle for. For the cosmic right of that life — of all life — to survive and persist. A Sith would just see a tool, a means to control, or something to dominate. One of us might affect the mind for protection, for safety, but never to harm like a Sith would. Do you understand so far?"

"I think so."

"Sith manipulate life itself. We pull on the currents that tie the Force together, without manipulation or breaking the strands. If you go too far in one direction, it will intoxicate you with power and, as we know, going too far in the other will paralyze you.

"It's the currents of life that you feel — we centralize them, drawing on how it flows into a living creature. That's what gives you power, but it's a power that's easily misused. Every waking moment must be a safeguard against misuse of the Force."

"You're being very careful to not use the J word."

"Well, I'm not a Jedi, so I can't train you as one."

"Probably for the best. What's, uh, what gets classified as a 'misuse?'"

"I mean..." Trista sighed. "The Force shouldn't be used to harm, but as a tool to protect. Sometimes you must harm something, but you should do cautiously — like I do. To lift an opponent, to throw them away from you or from another, to distract them. It isn't dangerous unless you draw on the Force to kill them. You know, what Visas' master did to Katarr, force lightning, choking." He took a breath — she could already sense the smirk — and she cut him off. "Not when we're meditating."

"Damn it."

"Many things come with practice and experience. Some techniques develop over time or happen instinctively. Once you have the Force within reach, it's far easier to learn as you go. In my opinion, at least.

"Your goal, using the Force... what is it?"

"Like I said. Protecting you."

"That won't last forever, and once you're tied to the Force it's difficult to break away. What if I'm not around?"

"I don't plan to let that happen."

"But it will. It just did."

"I'm not gonna let it."

Trista opened her eyes as a horrid realization struck her — or one she'd realized and, like the one about the Hawk's previous owner, shoved down into some dark corner of her mind and forgotten until the next bout of insecurity and anger. It explained an awful lot.

He wasn't the first, by far. Jedi at war attracted a ton of admirers. Even Revan had her fair share of them whenever she went about without the mask — and when she was wearing it, Trista'd endured it. People loved the no-strings-attached nature of Jedi relationships, especially in high-stress environments.

But Atton was different. His eyes were still closed, like he hadn't realized she'd been shoved out of her own borderline meditation yet and, now devoid of the shield he'd kept around his past, he seemed more... open.

It also explained what'd happened in the plaza, and his issue with Mical.

But to her worsening shock and horror, the fact that she wasn't opposed to the entire notion was the surprising revelation.

Finally her a shocked silence must have registered with him, and he opened his eyes. "Tris, you okay?"

She drew a deep breath and nodded. "Um, yeah. I'm okay. How, uh, how was that?"

He nodded. "I mean, I still don't get it, but—"

"I've been doing this since I was six, and I don't either." Atton got to his feet and held out his hand to help her up, and she took it.

"That makes me feel better."

She smiled, a bastion — hopefully — against the fact that every inch of her was swirling in wild, unsettled emotion.

He squinted at her. "Are you sure you're okay?"

"Um, yeah, I'm fine. I, uh..." She brushed her hand over her hair. "I'm, uh... I should make sure HK hasn't shot Goto yet, and get some sleep."

"Right, yeah. Go on."

Trista turned back to the door, but something made her hesitate.

What was her problem with it? That Atton was cagey for so long — or because of the argument? Her training? Masters drilling into them how awful it was to get emotionally involved with another person because a feeling of anything other than dull detachment from others was forbidden? Well, she wasn't a Jedi anymore, and she'd never bought into that anyway.

Or was it just because her having feelings like this about someone else was so rare that she didn't know how to bring it up?

He'd brought it up pretty succinctly back on Nar Shaddaa, after all.

"You aren't acting like you're okay." Atton's voice stirred her out of her thoughts, and she turned back, still not sure what she was going to do. He actually looked... worried? "Are — did Goto do something to you? Or... I shouldn't have asked after yesterday, I should have just—"

"No, I think I'm okay. I'm just, uh..."

Before she had full, cognizant control of her body, she stepped forward into his chest and kissed him.

In the first second she learned he chewed his lips, as hers struck a rough patch. He almost jerked backwards, but just as quickly pulled her to him, his hand splaying warmly on her back. She folded into him, curling her fingers along the graze of stubble on his jaw.

It lasted for what seemed like hours, their lips gently moving against each other, far longer than she had expected. Typically, during the war at least, this phase had only ever been a stepping stone to other events. But there was, despite how he often acted, almost nothing of that demand — just a hesitancy, one that echoed with a resounding note inside her.

Finally they paused, wordless, their lips still hovering just millimeters from each other. Trista stepped back, her heart racing.

What the frak did she just do?

Atton released her, studying her face with an unreadable expression.

"What was that for?" he breathed.

"I have no idea."

He nodded and stepped in again, closing the distance between their lips again with less shock, and a more wild, familiar hunger that echoed somewhere between her heart and that flicker inside her chest.

"You end all your training sessions like this?" he asked.

"Just this one." It was hard to catch her breath.

"You wanna end more of 'em like this?"

"I wouldn't be opposed to it."

Atton studied her for a moment. "You're sure?"

"If you are."

"Even if I'm an idiot?"

She frowned. "Atton—" He kissed her again, brief this time, just enough to shut her up.

"Still going to check on the murder droids?"

Trista stepped back, and Atton's hands released her with some reluctance. "Ah, shit. Thank you for reminding me."

The corner of his mouth jerked up. "Only for reminding you?"

She smirked back as she turned and headed back down the hall, a weightlessness in her steps like she hadn't felt in far too many years.


The Jedi: we've mastered teaching people to control the Force

Me: you fucked up some perfectly good Force Sensitives is what you did! look at them, they've got anxiety

I wanted to have Atton do some ruminating about why he decided Kreia wasn't going to run his life, but I couldn't figure out where to squeeze it in between these two chapters. We'll see if he's got a good excuse later when the plot reaches that particular crescendo.