Upon leaving the Temple and before reaching the lower-levels of Coursant Lyyr made a stop at a used clothing shop. It was owned by a rather good natured female Toydarain who Lyyr had managed to strike up an unexpected friendship with. Lyyr entered the shop as quietly as she could masking her presence from the shops few patrons. The turquoise owner was not fooled by the Jedi's mind tricks. She noticed Lyyr's entrance immediately and surreptitiously motioned her towards the backroom. The young Jedi made her way into the room and a few moments later Lyyr heard the Toydarain announce that she was going to step into the back room. After a sharp command to her security droid she joined Lyyr.

"Well girl this is the strangest request I have ever heard a Jedi make."

Lyyr opened her mouth to explain herself but the alien cut her off.

"I think Mistress Jedi that it best I don't know why you make this strange request."

"You are very wise Beeko," Lyyr told her not bothering to hide her amusement.

"If protecting your own hide is wisdom than I am wiser than you Jedi," Beeko countered laughing at her own joke. "Now let's see what I can do for you my friend."

Half an hour later Lyyr finally managed to escape Beeko's ministrations. As she left the shop Lyyr was painfully aware that she no longer resembled a Jedi, or herself. It was remarkable how much a simple change of clothing altered one's appearance, Lyyr thought with dark amusement.

The outfit Beeko had provided her with was exactly the polar opposite from her normal attire. She had chosen a form fitting sleeveless dress, one that clung to her torso before flaring out into a very short skirt. While the blouse was made of leather the skirt was some flimsy material that made Lyyr nervous. At Beeko's insistence Lyyr had applied a small amount of cosmetics to her face and took her unruly hair out of its customary bun. She had taken the tell-tale padawan braid and pinned it back in such a way that the rest of her hair disguised it. Over Beeko's objections Lyyr pulled a pair of leggings on to cover her exposed legs. Their material was just as flimsy as that of the skirt but it made her more comfortable not to have that much skin exposed. Her own leather boots would serve and it was in one of them that she had concealed her lightsaber. Lyyr hoped that she would not have to use it. Ten years may have passed since she last had to use her bare hands in defense but she had lost none of her skill.

As she roamed the lower-levels slowly making her way into the slaver's favorite hunting ground, she found herself fighting the urge to pull her skirt down and tug at the skin tight fabric.

Force this humiliation had better be worth it!

…

Lyyr left the fourth night club, both disgusted and elated. She was disgusted with everything she had witnessed and elated because she was finally being followed. She extended her sense until they encountered the mind of the one following her. Without any qualm over the moral implications she casually read his surface thoughts. She gathered that he was waiting for her to make the mistake of isolating herself. To oblige him Lyyr turned down the first blind alley she came across. She sensed her stalker's own elation at her 'mistake' and Lyyr suppressed a grin at the idea of turning the tables on the hunter. She wasn't terribly surprised when she sensed the presence of another mind joining the hunt.

She continued down the dark alley, trying not to tense for the blow that she knew was coming. When it finally did come being aware of it did nothing to alleviate the pain. Although it did not knock her out like it would have if she had been caught completely unawares, it still brought her to her knees. Lyyr continued to fall into a heap closing her eyes and employing a meditation technique to keep her body still. All in all she had managed a convincing simulation of being knocked unconscious.

Footsteps approached her prone form, and she heard a quick whispered conversation over head. They roughly tugged her arms behind her back and using steal cuff links they tied her hands. Through all of it she did not blink an eye. When they shoved her into a dank smelling sack and hoisted her up over one of their shoulders, despite her best efforts Lyyr began to panic.

Her captors set off at a grueling pace, each step bruising her stomach. She did not know where they were taking her but she did know that it felt like forever before they reached their destination. The sound of doors opening and shutting soon replaced the noise of the busy lower-levels. It was not long before she was dumped unmercifully on a rough bunk of some kind. The sack was pulled of off her and she blinked in confusion at the sudden brightness.

"You did not knock this one hard enough," a Kiffar male remarked speaking in Huttenese. Lyyr kept her expression of confusion allowing some fear to creep into her features. It would do her no good if they realized that she could understand them.

"Does it matter? I don't know about you but I prefer my whores to be lively." On the heel of those words a human male entered her field of vision.

"Another sheltered heiress slumming in the big city," the Kiffar remarked bitterly, "well daddy's money won't save you my pretty, pretty thing." He ran a hand down her neck, caressing it. Lyyr shuddered hoping that it looked involuntary. The Kiffar chuckled in delight at her apparent fear.

"How accommodating she is," the human said with a purr, "look, Saran, a little tug and these clothes come right off." To prove his point he tore a rip into her skirt than roughly tugged the leggings down past her knees. "Come Saran," the man said entreatingly to the Kiffar even as he began to paw at Lyyr's thigh. "Shall we test the merchandise?"

Now Lyyr was truly beginning to panic and she began to wonder if perhaps it had been entirely wise for her to allow them to capture her so completely. She did not plan for things to go this far. Now she was trying to fight off memories, the legacy from being used in such a way on Tatooine, as well as trying to think a way out of her predicament. The memories overwhelmed her sending her into a panic. Paralyzed she watched as the man grinning like a maniac loosened his pants then clambered on top of her. The past held her captive until the first rude thrust the man made into her body. Then all the pain and anger she had felt back when she was eleven, thirteen, fourteen and fifteen came rushing back to her. She would not tolerate being used again.

They were returning to the speeder after that disappointing case when Obi-Wan was struck by the sudden feeling of someone in trouble. The fear and panic coupled with immense pain and anger he sensed could not be ignored. Uncharacteristically he ordered Anakin to the speeder without any explanation. Even while Anakin stared at him confused by his abruptness Obi-Wan turned on his heel and disappeared in the crowded street. For the second time he ran through the packed lower-level and this time he did not bother to be polite. The emotions he sensed were joined by another's fear and then a third.

Obi-Wan never could remember exactly how he made his way into the seedy room hidden in the back of some warehouse, but he would never forget what he found. There was a woman, her hands cuffed behind her back fighting off a Kiffar and a human. Even as he entered the room the woman delivered a powerful roundhouse kick to the human's head and he fell like a ton of bricks. Now it was just her and the Kiffar. Obi-Wan froze uncertain of whom he should defend. Obviously the woman had been assaulted by these two and jut as obviously she was the one now assaulting them. Before Obi-Wan could make up his mind the woman called a light fixture with the Force and slammed it into the back of the Kiffar's skull. He went down like a felled bantha.

The woman whipped around to face Obi-Wan who instinctively activated his lightsaber. They stared at each other for a moment; the woman crouched ready to pounce and Obi-Wan prepared to defend himself. He took in the tattered state of her clothing, the ruined leggings, ripped skirt and mauled blouse. He could only guess at what had been going on, but right now his only concern was what was about to happen.

The woman shifted her position, straightening up out of her crouch and cocking her head to one side. She regarded him with a frank and questioning stare and it was in that moment that Obi-Wan recognized her – Lyyr.

She was Lyyr, but at the same time not. For the rest of his days Obi-Wan would never forget how she looked that night. Her black hair framed her face, falling on her shoulders in an untamable mass of curls. Her face flushed from her exertions and those violet eyes lit from within with a wild light. She looked completely lethal and devastatingly beautiful. A fact that hit Obi-Wan like the blast from a stun gun, how could I have not noticed?

At that moment Obi-Wan realized that Lyyr was at heart a wild untamable woman. She only acted civilized because at times it suited her. He wondered what she could have become if she had been left to wander the Jundland Wastelands as a child. He had no doubt that she would have survived, just as he was certain that even the so-called civilization of Mos Espa had tempered Lyyr in some ways. Briefly he doubted the wisdom of the Council, allowing her to be trained as a Jedi.

"Obi-Wan, do you mind?" She asked twisting to show him the cuffs. He stood stunned for a moment before robotically obliging. Taking his lightsaber he quickly cut through the steal cuffs then disengaged the blade. The minute her hands were freed Lyyr twisted her hair back into a bun revealing her padawan braid. As if the gesture of confining her hair possessed a more symbolic meaning, she reassumed a Jedi's tranquility and her face became deceptively smooth. Only her eyes retained the only hint of the thrill she had felt during the fight.

"What are you doing Lyyr?" Obi-Wan asked harshly, in fact it was all he could do to keep from shouting. His shock at seeing her and his own emotional reaction to her presence caused him to over react. She looked wounded by his harshness, those expressive violet eyes dimming to a dull purple.

"Fulfilling my mandate."

"Beating up innocents?!" He accused and the moment the words left his mouth he knew he had made a mistake. Her eyes flashed then hardened at the accusation.

"Innocents, you think them innocent! These two just happen to have been running a slave smuggling ring. They kidnapped unsuspecting and truly innocent females then sold them as pleasure slaves. After, naturally, having sampled those poor souls' bodies for themselves, breaking them in for their future masters and enjoying every pain they inflicted on their victims. As for tonight they had just attempted to rape me. Are these the actions of an innocent?" Lyyr explained passionately. It was the most passionate Obi-Wan had ever seen her. What made it even more alarming was that she spoke in a calm even reasonable voice.

"You were acting as"—

"Bait," she cut him off.

"Oh," was all he could think to say.

She watched him for a moment longer, her eyes boring into him, before turning to search the room. She ignored the prone forms on the floor until she came across some more of those cuffs. Lyyr then proceeded to secure her former captors. Without a word Obi-Wan stepped forward to help her. She gave him a searching look but did not say anything. After both slavers had been properly tied up Lyyr went back to searching the room. She did not say a word to Obi-Wan, actually for the most part she ignored him only occasionally handing him a document or holo-disk that she must have deemed important evidence. It was during this uncomfortable silence that Obi-Wan's comlink beeped with an incoming call, he answered it immediately.

"Master," Anakin's voice came through with minimal static, "is there any place in particular you want me to go or should I just camp out here all night?"

Obi-Wan rolled his eyes at the boy's cheek. He looked at Lyyr who had her back to him. She must have sensed his gaze, more importantly what he wanted for without preamble she gave him directions to relay to Anakin. Dutifully Obi-Wan repeated them into the comlink.

"If you let them kidnap you, how do you know where we are?" He asked. In reply she handed him a transcript of some kind of communication in which there were the exact directions she had told him. "Huh," he said taking the paper.

"If you came here of your own will, how do you not know where we are?" She asked her back to him still. Obi-Wan decided not to answer that, he also decided that it was from her that Anakin got his cheekiness.

By the time Anakin arrived Lyyr had gone through the entire apartment to her satisfaction. Everything she thought was important was now in the very sack her kidnappers had used to transport her. By then Obi-Wan was beginning to feel the effects of her silent treatment. She did not say anything reproachful about his behavior earlier, she did not say anything at all but she did not have to, those eyes spoke volumes for her.

Anakin did not seem surprise to find Lyyr waiting with Obi-Wan, nor did he seem surprised by the still unconscious slavers. She greeted her brother with a formal little nod and Anakin returned it before taking off his black cloak and handing it to her. Lyyr accepted it with a rueful grin then quickly wrapped herself in it. Excess fabric piled up at her feet and she grimaced. Together the three of them man-handled the two ex-slavers into the back of the speeder, then Anakin and Obi-Wan both climbed into the front seat. Lyyr, still clutching her sack, made no move to join them.

"If you two will excuse me, I have some unfinished business to attend to," without any further explanation she left them there.

Silently Anakin navigated the speeder back into the heavy traffic high above the lower-levels. This time he had the grace and tack to wait until they were in the air before he said anything.

"Well Master, this is certainly not part of our mandate."