Disclaimer: While the Flanneled one does not own my soul, he does own Star Wars. The title is what I named the message to my beta reader when I told her I was sending a new chapter. She thought it was funny, and I think I do too. Please review, and I would love it if you nit-picked about my typos! (Seriously).

I walked to the starboard crew quarters. As soon as I was out of sight of the cockpit, I stripped away the mining uniform I'd been wearing. I found myself once again wearing that ridiculous jumpsuit I'd yet to replace.

I awkwardly positioned my body on the narrow bunk, fully expecting to fall asleep immediately. I was frustrated when I searched for sleep but could not find it. I tossed and squirmed about for many minutes, and indeed I found several reasonably comfortable positions; I was therefore puzzled that sleep continued to elude me.

Eventually I decided that perhaps I could meditate instead. I tried to position my body accordingly. The stances were easy enough to remember, and easy enough to fold into. The problem dwelt in my muscles. They had been strained, and the whisper of the Force within me was not sufficient to relieve my discomfort. Without practice, I had long since lost the focus required to meditate through intense pain.

At last I decided that I would meditate on my back. I had not done so since I was a padawan on Dantooine. I had been staring up at the starry night sky in wonder, contemplating the soul-crushing enormity of the universe. We had just learned that space was called space due to its infinite reaches, relatively void of matter. I'd felt so awestruck, so insignificant in its vastness. I had meditated there for hours; I'd found my center as I sought to become a light in that emptiness.

I settled down and tried to open my mind. I hoped that the Force was guiding me as my mind wandered into the shadows of my past. Already deep in meditation, I remembered the occasional visits to Coruscant while I was still very young. I had made a sport of hacking into the Archives, although I rarely had any purpose in mind. My mind slid to one occasion in particular, an evening when I'd had a purpose in my presence.

Two years had passed since I'd met my mother. Two years had fled away without me knowing what had become of my family. Finally, I was confident that I would learn the secret that had haunted me for so long.

I had typed furiously, testing the limits of my computer skills. When I began, I was naïve enough to think that a simple search of students originating from Nar Shaddaa would immediately deliver the faces of my relatives. After wading through the first hundred results, I had noticed the incredible number of students left to check. Shedding despair, I'd experienced an epiphany and typed even faster.

I'd hacked into the genetic archives of the Order, where DNA samples from every member and potential member of the Jedi Order were stored. I'd found my own information, and ordered the computer to run a direct relative scan.

I had been terrified of being caught while the computers compared hundreds of thousands of samples. The first query, to my disappointment, had been too vague; the search returned roughly five thousand people, many of whom had been dead for years. More than a little frustrated, I'd narrowed the search.

It took many years for me to find the patience that eluded me as a padawan. The twenty minutes I'd waited for my revised search results seemed to take forever at the time. I should have been grateful; most databases took far longer to retrieve simpler results.

The gentle ping of the console had belied the significance of the results on its display. I saw three results: a knight, a padawan, and an initiate.

I'd been most interested in learning about my sister. What lonely little girl doesn't wish for a big sister? She was the padawan, and as her holopic came into view, my breath had caught in my throat. I knew her, and I recalled my own shock at this fact.

The console had prominently displayed the genetic similarity at about half. I had considered this before, but I wasn't far enough in biology to really understand the significance. As I meditated, it occurred to me that in all likelihood, we had the same mother and father. Her origins were listed as an unknown planet in the outer rim of the galaxy, perhaps even in the unknown regions. The system was designated by a series of numbers.

I recalled reading the unfamiliar name at the top of the screen. Aoibhe Lokar. I'd been so confused. Wasn't her name Eva? My mind briefly touched upon a later memory. Aoibhe had laughed at me when I asked her how to pronounce her name. I'd had no idea that the two names were pronounced the same; she had seen fit to tease me for about an hour because of my ignorance. I'd cried for twice as long.

Looking back, she'd been a very impressive padawan. At the young age of sixteen, she was being groomed for knighthood. The Jedi had badly wanted a young woman of such talent and charisma as a full member of their Order, and they wanted her as quickly as possible.

I tried to picture the face of my sister as I'd known her. She had our mother's bright blue eyes and narrow chin and jaw. However, her straight dark hair brought my memory to the second result of that fateful search.

The Jedi Knight looked very young in his holopic, and I'd wondered why I didn't recognize him. It had only been when I started analyzing the numbers that the pieces of the puzzle started to fall into place. Deagan Lokar was dead, and had been for several years. I recalled that his date of death was only a few weeks after I was born. I'd been intrigued by this strange man, so I started reading his file. He'd been so promising, and the Masters seemed sure that he would join them as a member of the council before long. Then he'd taken a mission that dragged him to the edges of the known territories, and he had neglected to return; he was only available remotely after that mission. I noticed as I flipped between Deagan and Aoibhe's pages that he had died on the very planet where she had been born. I looked at the genetic similarity between us, and I had realized that he must have been my father. With that in mind, I'd studied his face.

He had dark brown hair that hung stick-straight and probably would have been in his eyes if it had been long enough. His eyes were a dark stormy gray that looked like it was trying to be blue. Like mine, I'd realized. He had a broad jawline, a trait I'd inherited to a lesser extent. Even though he was not smiling in his holo, the kindness in his face was apparent. I'd seen his face in my own, and I'd recognized his features in Aoibhe. My sister had not inherited the naturally kind-looking features of my father. I'd sincerely hoped that I had.

The third result, I recalled, had only about one quarter similarity to me. Even as I meditated I knew the name, but I dared not think it outright; it was too painful. While Aoibhe and Deagan's names represented what they were at their best and indeed what they should have been, my brother's name represented only what he would never be.

I remembered the gap-toothed grin of the six-year-old he'd been. He had the blue eyes of my mother as well as wavy blonde hair reminiscent of her curly locks, but my father was nowhere to be seen in his face. The boy knew nothing but the Jedi Order; he'd been given up immediately. Indeed, the records showed that the mother had insisted the Jedi take him, even if he might be unsuitable for training. I remembered him; he'd been so excited when he lost his first tooth that he'd shown everyone he could find. He had also been very strong, and spoke like a little gentleman, both of which were unusual in a child so young.

As I recalled the pleasant days of my childhood, sleep finally found me.

My dreams began immediately. In my dream, I was a confident fifteen years old. I had nearly reached the age at which my sister had been knighted, and to my amazement the Masters had begun grooming me for knighthood as well. As part of my training, I was to substitute teach a class of younglings on basic lightsaber technique. This was not the first time I'd done so; the younglings seemed to appreciate my enthusiasm. I'd corrected my charges' grips where necessary, and heard myself explaining the musical grace and beauty in the hum and crackle of the lightsaber. My little brother was among them. My hands on his, I'd corrected his grip for the third time that afternoon; normally he wasn't so careless. He'd smiled back at me even as I'd given him the same encouraging smile that I offered each struggling initiate.

I hadn't tried to show any favoritism; I'd still kept the secret of my family guarded close to my heart.

My dream shifted. Half a year had passed, and I was ascending to knighthood. A small ceremony had been held, and I'd noticed my brother in the back of the room, watching anxiously. I had wondered if I was ready to take a padawan, if I was finally ready to tell him, but I didn't have long to wonder. My sister had also been present, although she seemed to care little for the ceremony. I'd guessed that one of our friends had dragged her there.

For the past few years, I had tried to befriend my sister. She'd assumed I was just another of her adoring fans, so my attempts were ignored. I had been too stubborn to tell her the truth; I'd wanted to be legitimate friends with my sister before I told her of our connection. Her friends, however, had been significantly warmer towards me.

The dream jumped to the time just after the ceremony, the very moment when the course of my life began to irreversibly shift.

"Hey, you're one of Squint's friends, right?" I'd heard a voice ask.

I'd turned around and was set face-to-face with Aoibhe. She'd never before initiated a conversation. "Yeah, I'm Lexi," I had replied hesitantly.

"Congratulations. For being knighted, I mean."

"Thank you," I'd whispered.

"What do you think of this war? Terrible, right?" The Mandalorian War had been in its infancy just prior to my birth. It had reached full maturity in that last year, and the talk of the young Jedi was whether or not the Order should assist.

"I'm pretty sure I'm not cut out for war," I'd softly replied, sighing heavily. At the time, I'd had no intention of joining; I'd never liked death. I'd always been more comfortable tinkering, training, and healing others.

"Strange, I imagine you'd excel at it," she'd replied, and left without another word.

The dream shifted to three days later. Alek Squinquargesimus had been a bit easier to befriend than Aoibhe, even though the two were practically joined at the hip. True, he had taken to me partially because I'd bothered to learn how to pronounce his last name. He'd been a year older than Aoibhe, but he was so warm to the finding of new friends. He didn't have the same self-righteous conceit that some of the Jedi seemed to always carry, my sister included.

I thought he'd been my best friend and closest confidant. I was the baby sister of the great Aoibhe Lokar, blood to the pride and joy of the Jedi Order, and he was the first soul I ever told, before even my own Master.

"Hey Alexis," he'd called, emphasizing his own name within mine, making it sound like Alek-sis.

"Alek, I don't call you Squint. Why can't you just call me Lexi?"

"The similarity is just too delicious, my dear."

"Fine, call me Alexis, just… never call me that again." I'd felt a slight shudder creep up my spine.

"Call you what?" he'd asked, trying to look innocent.

"Don't call me your dear," I'd half-whispered. "It's weird, and… it makes me uncomfortable."

"I'm sorry Lexi. My purpose here isn't just to tease you. Aoibhe sent me."

"Why?" my mouth had asked before my brain could stop it. I'd not actually wanted to hear his answer.

"We can't wait any longer. The Republic needs Jedi assistance, and I no longer believe that the council will offer it. We are going to war, with anyone who will follow us. There are a few already, but she's confident there will be more."

"I don't know anything about making war," I'd whispered as softly as my voice would allow.

"And yet we need you."

"So Aoibhe is determined?" I'd asked hesitantly.

"Nothing could possibly stop her. If you wish to ensure her safety, it can only be in person."

I'd nodded gravely, my thoughts jumbled. I'd known in that moment that I would be accompanying them. No sister of mine was going to war without me. I had realized a second later that I would be leaving behind the youngling boy. No little brother of mine was going to war, ever.

My dream shifted. The images I'd seen were true to memory in every whit. But this next dream was different. I was not present for the events, but still I saw them. Since I could feel the Force again, I did not know if what I saw was vision or imagination. The dream's beginning immediately made me wish for the latter.

I saw my brother dressed in padawan's robes, wielding a green lightsaber. He was a young teen, training on the grasses of Dantooine. Before my eyes, a man in black popped into view, his stealth field broken. He had managed to sneak up behind the young padawan. The man pulled out a large vibrodagger, and slashed open the boy's throat. The force of the blow was so powerful that it broke my brother's neck. He was dead before his body met the Dantooine plain. I desperately tried to wake up, but my mind seemed determined to trap me here.

The dream faded briefly, and I saw my brother alive and well, fighting valiantly to defend a group of younglings from a Dark Jedi. The boy had the upper hand momentarily, but the Dark Jedi's Force lightning stopped my brother's heart. My heart tried to stop with it. His eyes went dark, and I continued to try to awaken.

My dream jumped violently, and I saw the Dantooine Enclave being bombarded by a hostile fleet. I saw the walls collapse, and saw him pinned under some piece of the building, while another chunk of rubble snuffed the light from him. My efforts to wake from this nightmare became more desperate.

Each time I saw him die again, I would first see him alive and well. I saw him battling Mandalorians as one of my troops, and I saw the blaster bolts rip his torso to shreds. I saw a Republic capital ship poised above a battle with the Mandalorians. I remembered that vessel from the war, even as I watched it plummet to the planet's surface, killing all on board. In the dream I was sure that the boy was on board. I saw him on the surface of Malachor V moments before the Mass Shadow Generator activated. I saw the generator rip apart his body from the inside, liquefying his bones and vital organs.

My dream dissolved into darkness, but not into silence. You killed your own brother, a quiet, emotionless voice in my dream and perhaps also in my head whispered. He's dead, and it's your own fault. I'd distanced myself to protect him, and in so doing I had gotten him killed. What if the last was a vision? If it was true, then I hadn't just managed to get him killed, I'd killed him myself.

A flood of emotions came roaring out, and with a terrified scream I finally found consciousness.

My screams dissolved into sobbing as my heart hammered a rough rhythm behind my ribs. The beat was so intense I feared my heart would leap free. I was hyperventilating, gasping for air so desperately that I grew lightheaded.
Atton must have heard my scream, for he dashed into my room moments later. He was dressed a bit differently, missing his jacket, boots, and gloves. Oh, napping in the cockpit? I wondered.

"What's wrong?" he asked, trying (and failing) to appear nonchalant.

"Nightmare," I squeaked between gasps. "My… brother… dead." I was unable to control my hysteria enough to lend an explanation.

"Wait, you have a brother too?" Atton asked in surprise.

I nodded.

"So how did he die?"

"Don't… know… but… all… my… fault." My gasping wouldn't allow me more than one word in a breath.

"Lexi, how is that even possible?" Atton asked as he sat on the edge of my bed.

"I… left him… to die."

"So he was injured."

I shook my head no, and buried my face into his shirt. No, he wasn't sleeping. He must have cleaned himself up while I slept, because he smelled a lot better than I expected. I smelled soil and fresh sweat with an undercurrent of something I couldn't identify. He smelled like a man. I breathed in deeply, which settled my respiration. I didn't want to pull my face away and instead mumbled into his chest, "I left him behind when I went to war, and something happened, and he's dead, and it's all my fault!" I exclaimed this in a single breath, which forced me to gasp for air once again.

"Huh?"

I started sobbing into him, his shirts growing wet with my tears. He let me cry, running his fingers gently over my shoulder. The tingling at his touch made me remember my pain, but I could not find it. The lack of that familiar ache was far more noticeable than the pain itself had ever been, but the tingling was almost overwhelming. I couldn't help but be calmed once again.

"My brother was training to become a Jedi, and I had decided to become his Master, although I hadn't told him yet. I was drawn into the war, and I couldn't bear to bring him with me. I thought I was protecting him, but if the Jedi are all gone, then he is too. If I'd brought him with me, I might have protected him."

"So you did have a family."

"Yep, but no husband. The ol' lightsaber and I never managed to tie the knot," I tried to joke.

Atton laughed and gave me a playful shove.

"I've never told anyone about my brother before. Even he didn't know."

Atton's laughter faded and he gently kissed the top of my head. I lifted my head to look at him, and he astonished me by kissing my cheek. I blushed heavily, and tucked my face in his shoulder.

"Sorry, Atton. You don't have to do this. I'm a big ball of crazy today."

"Do what?"

"Comfort me. I've been managing for years on my own."

"Yeah, I know I don't," he replied softly. He didn't leave.

After a few moments, I asked, "Why do you put up with my nonsense?"

"We haven't exactly known each other long. Maybe I just don't know any better."

"I gave you an out, but you stayed. Why?"

"What can I say? I'm a sucker for a pretty face," Atton said jokingly. "And you don't treat me like a blithering idiot."

"I guess so." Then I added in barely more than a whisper, "I'm not too pretty right now, though."

"What was that?" Atton asked.

"Don't worry about it," I said dismissively.

"Don't worry about what? Don't you make me change my mind about you."

"Oh, fine. You can call me pretty all you like, but right now I'm a total mess."

"Oh, I don't know. Lose some of those clothes and I'm willing to bet that nobody would even notice." I punched his arm. "Ow! Good to know I can rile you up."

"Yeah, big challenge," I said with a laugh.

"I'll take what I can get. See? I got a smile out of it."

"Oh yes, your powers for cheering me up are masterful."

"Glad you think so," he said with a wink.

"Too bad it was you who made me need cheering up that time."

"I'm sure I'll improve," he added. "But you're always cute, even when you're sad."

"You haven't seen me in every situation. You're just trying to make me feel better."

"I thought I already did."

I sighed. "Yeah," I replied simply. The silence settled between us, and I was loath to break it. The question squirming around the edges of my mind finally persuaded me, though I was unsure how to approach it. "Can I… will you… stay with me here for a few more minutes? Maybe if I'm not alone the nightmare won't find me again."

"Uh, I guess so," he replied. He sat silently with me until sleep gently carried me away.

Some time later, my eyes popped open. My dreams had been peaceful if not memorable. Atton must have tucked me back in, for I felt very warm on the bunk. It was with a start that I realized we'd had our rather intimate conversation in the same weird jumpsuit I'd been wearing when we met. I really need to get some better nightclothes, I thought.

I rose, and searched the gear we'd recovered. In the Harbinger I'd found a padawan robe but decided not to wear it. I analyzed the components of the outfit and saw that the tunic, boots, and leggings looked like ordinary civilian clothing, and so I pulled them on. The sudden chill of the Hawk made me shiver; my body was still used to the warmth of my bed. I wrapped myself in the robe, and walked to the cockpit.

"How long was I out?"

"A few hours. We're still far enough away that I'll bet you could get a few more."

"Thanks, but I'm fine," I replied. "Hey, Atton?"

"Yeah?"

"Thank you for helping me…. Would you like a shot at a bunk? I can babysit the Hawk for a few hours."

"Sure you don't want to join me?" he countered with a roguish grin.

"And leave T3 or Kreia to pilot this crate?"

"Okay, maybe not. Unless you trust that little trash compactor not to get us killed. Oh, and I see you've decided to dress like a Jedi."

"Actually, I'm just wearing the tunic and leggings… and the boots. Well, and the robe, but only because I'm cold. I'm not a Jedi."

"I'm sure."

I opened the robe to show him, and added, "I happen to trust T3, I just didn't think you would."

"Fine, do what you want. Hopefully your bunk is still warm."

He walked off, trying to swagger, but I could see the exhaustion in his gait. How did I miss that before? If he was in that force cage for more than a day, he'd have to have been even more exhausted than I was.

As soon as Atton was out of earshot, I tracked down T3. "Hey T3, you feel like piloting for a bit?" T3 eagerly beeped his assent. Or, at least I think that's what it was. It can't be easy to convey eagerness in a binary language. "Thanks, buddy. I'm gonna explore a bit, and then check in on the others. Don't have too much fun." I winked and giggled a bit at my feeble attempt at a joke. T3 beeped dubiously, and I grinned in reply.

My explorations yielded little, so I decided a full inventory was in order. Our food supplies were reasonably well-stocked, although until I could supplement them, we could expect to be surviving on a highly nutritious but tasteless glop. The water stores weren't quite as encouraging. While the recycling system was in good order, the actual supplies were low enough that there simply wouldn't be enough water for anything more luxurious than a sponge bath. As I examined the small on-board refresher, I was relieved to find a sonic shower. We were also running low on sterile wipes, and the complete extent of our medical supplies consisted of what I'd managed to scavenge from Peragus. Within a storage compartment just off the main hold, I found a damaged droid that held an eerie resemblance to the HK-50 droid that had shattered the lives at Peragus. I found that it was missing a few key parts, and that I even had a suitable replacement for its vocabulator. I knew I'd need it when I scavenged through the broken remains of the HK-50 unit, although I had no idea why at the time. I installed it in the older, rusted-out model and backed away slowly.

I sighed heavily. I didn't know why my mood had grown somber, although I suspected that the dim lighting of the ship was a major contributor. I sat on the cold durasteel floor and let my mind wander.

Out of the corner of my mind, I thought I heard something from the starboard dormitory, where Atton slept. Well, where he is, I corrected myself. No way of knowing what he's actually doing in there. (I had yet to find the security camera access terminal.) I decided to investigate the disturbance.

I stepped into the dormitory and was greeted by the edge of a bare backside. I tried not to giggle, and failed spectacularly. My pilot was wearing nothing, and the only thing the blankets managed to do was to accentuate his assets. I felt relief that he slept on his front, even if it meant that he'd drooled on the pillow. I was in no way ready or willing to see everything. Did I imagine hearing something? Suddenly, his whole body tensed and started to shake. He made an odd strangled cry into the pillows as a grimace contorted his handsome features. My memories brought me back to the pubescent boys at the Enclave. I averted my gaze, hoping I hadn't walked in on something I'd regret seeing.

I opened my mind to the Force, and saw that Atton was experiencing a nightmare of his own. I thanked the Force that my initial suspicion was wrong.

I sat down on the edge of the bunk and repositioned the blanket over his rear. I began by hovering my fingertips over the expanse of his back, not actually touching the skin. His back was pale; I guessed he didn't see much sun. It looked smooth, but then he shifted position and the light cast shadows on a handful of scars.

I ran my fingers over his back, trying to calm him with the Force. I could feel the raised scars that seemed to coat his back; only a few were raised enough to catch shadows. I lost my concentration momentarily, wondering how he could have so many. I could almost feel an echo of the pain in them, and began humming a lullaby that I'd known by heart since infancy.

I'm not sure what calmed him, but after a few minutes his shaking quieted. I placed a gentle kiss below his right shoulder and made my way back to the cockpit.

"Thanks T3, I've got it from here," I said as I entered. I waited in the cockpit for several hours, bored senseless. It was during this time that the ache returned. Like a beast it gnawed at me, although its teeth seemed to be less sharp than usual. In my fingertips it was entirely absent. I wondered if this "human contact" thing worked with people besides Atton. Meh. As long as he sticks around, what difference does it make, anyway?

As I sat in the Hawk's cockpit, perched in the copilot's chair, my thoughts drifted to the man whose very touch seemed to heal me. What if others' touches don't have the same effect? What if they do? What if he leaves? What if he stays? I felt fear grip hold of my heart, and so I meditated.

A few hours later, Atton returned to the cockpit. "You saved my seat for me."

I was sitting in the copilot's seat. Already the pilot's seat felt like it was Atton's alone. I'd been meditating too deeply to really notice the significance. "Huh. I guess I did."

He settled into his seat, then looked at me. "Hey, thanks for letting me sleep."

"Sure. No problem. You must have found my nightmare, though."

"You came in while I was sleeping?" he asked, curiosity written all over his face.

"Well yeah, although for a second I thought you were doing something else entirely," I said with a smile and a blush.

"So that part wasn't a dream. Did you see… anything?" he asked.

My blush deepened, and I decided to be vague in my reply. "Not really. So I think we're pretty close to Telos now," I said, hastily changing the subject.

Not revealing whether he'd noticed my change, Atton replied, "Okay. Want to play a game of pazaak?" The hopeful glint in his eyes made me wonder which rules he'd suggest

As I was about to reply to the affirmative, I remembered. "I lost my deck a while back."

"Oh," Atton said, crestfallen. "So, what did you see?"

Despite the sudden change back to a previously abandoned topic of conversation, I immediately knew what he meant. "Enough to know that you were naked, not enough to know if I should be impressed. You were lying face down."

"Well you would have been impressed," he winked.

"I'm sure." I grinned broadly. "I guess we're even."

"Oh really? You must have seen more than you said."

"Well, on second thought, maybe not. I'll keep you updated," I added, thoughts of what it might take for us to really be even swirling through my head.

Atton shot me a quizzical look. "You're the weirdest Jedi I've ever met."

"I'm not a Jedi!"

"But you used to be one?"

"Do we have to talk about this right now? Sure, I don't have a husband. I'm sure you don't have a wife. That doesn't make you a Jedi."

"What makes you think I don't have a wife?" Atton asked defensively.

"Your enthusiasm for cheap hookers."

"I might just be a bad husband."

"The problem is emotional attachment, so you're in the same situation I am."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"If you were married, and I know you aren't, then you obviously wouldn't be emotionally attached to your wife. The point stands." I took a deep, steadying breath. "Atton, Jedi aren't defined by what they can or cannot do, nor by what they will or will not do. Jedi are defined by what they think and by what they actually go out and do," I said steadily. "And by how they treat the people around them," I added as an afterthought.

"That doesn't make any sense."

"Yeah, I know. The Jedi have been content to do nothing while the Republic burns, maybe even the whole galaxy. They teach mercy and compassion, but use their own so-called 'wisdom' as an excuse not to practice it. If that's what it means to be Jedi, I'm content just being Lexi." I was stunned. I'd never voiced my problems with the Order before, although I'd thought it through many times.

"Oh," came Atton's laconic reply.

"Maybe it won't always be that way," I added thoughtfully.

"Maybe," agreed Atton.

In that moment the Hawk lurched out of hyperspace, and for the first time I saw Citadel Station at Telos. Atton transformed back into a very capable pilot, landing our craft gently in one of the module hangars.

As he and I walked to the exit ramp, I took his hand and squeezed gently. We stopped for a moment.

"Atton?"

"Yeah?"

"This could get… difficult. Please, whatever happens, just follow my lead."

Atton nodded, and I released his hand. I took a deep breath, and side-by-side we walked down the exit ramp of the Ebon Hawk.