First off, I want to apologize for the long silence, and for any future ones as well. I've just uprooted myself and flown halfway around the world to study in Australia for the semester, which means my classes will begin near the end of July. It's hard to predict how much time I'll have to write, but the fact that I've already got nine chapters of this story in the works means it's not entirely hopeless. It just means it'll be hard to predict when I'll update. I'm really sorry about this, but thanks for bearing with me, and I hope you enjoy this chapter.

A/N: This takes place a few days after the crash. Carth and Revan/Skye have learned from Brejik where Bastila is being held, but they have yet to head down to the Undercity to look for Mission. In the meantime, Skye is looking to win them some more credits…

Disclaimer: KotOR is still not mine.

Taris – The Mysterious Stranger and the Handsome Thug

"I don't think you should do it."

I looked up from jabbing a medpac into my leg to find Carth frowning down at me. He didn't elaborate.

"Any particular reason?" I asked, maybe a little petulantly. "You didn't have an issue with my first two duels."

"Yeah, well, those guys were pushovers. Ice isn't."

"How sweet. Are you actually worried about me now?" I let the implications of that comment go unsaid—that someone who thought I had sabotaged the Endar Spire shouldn't care whether I picked a fight with a bully I couldn't handle.

The deepening of Carth's frown proved he'd caught my drift. I wasn't surprised. We were getting to know each other pretty well—which was kind of a shame, actually. Carth had been a lot more fun before I started trying to figure him out. His past was evidently full of land mines, and he preferred to set up a wide perimeter around them and put up a sign that said "Keep Out" before I could even get close enough to find out where they lay. All I'd managed to gather so far was that he trusted me about as much as he trusted the Sith, which I wasn't supposed to take personally, and it probably had something to do with Telos, seeing as he didn't want to talk about that either. Or maybe he just didn't want to talk to me, period. Either way, I was pretty sure I could be excused for being a little skeptical of any concern he expressed for my wellbeing.

"I just think it's an unnecessary risk," he said at last, as if there'd been no sarcastic barb to my question at all. "You're going to get yourself killed."

I shook my head and tossed the used medpac into the nearest garbage unit.

"Energy suppressors, remember? The worst I'll end up with is a few bruises, maybe some minor broken bones. If it was possible to die in that ring, Duncan would have pulled it off by now, trust me."

Belatedly, it occurred to me to glance around and make sure the infamous Dead-eye Duncan wasn't within earshot. He wasn't. The Force was still on my side, unlike a certain Republic soldier.

"Give me a little credit here," Carth said. Judging by the sour look on his face, his patience was wearing about as thin as mine. "I was there when you talked to Bendak Starkiller, and I can put two and two together. You're working up to a death match, aren't you?"

"No," I said truthfully. "In case you haven't noticed, I'm not big on homicide, even with a contract." Didn't he remember all the trouble I'd went to in order to fake Matrik's death rather than kill him?

"No, I know. But Bendak's criminal record is a lot more extensive than just owing Davik money. He's killed hundreds of people. He actually deserves the bounty on his head, and I thought… I thought you might make an exception."

The look on Carth's face was entirely unreadable. I wished I had Jedi mind-reading powers so I'd know what that undercurrent of intensity in his voice was all about.

But I knew better than to start prying now. If we were going to rescue Bastila from the Vulkars and make it off this planet alive, we had to work together, and I wasn't so blinded by my resentment that I didn't recognize when I was the bigger barrier to keeping the all-important peace.

I sighed, stooping and tightening my new civilian boots as an excuse to avert my eyes.

If I was honest with myself, I knew Carth probably meant well with his concerns for my safety. And I'd been nothing but sarcastic—okay, maybe downright hostile— in return. He didn't deserve that, overly paranoid or no. After all, if he could put aside his suspicions that I was a Sith spy, the least I could do was try to forget that he'd all but accused me of being one.

"I know I'm a soldier," I said at last. "There's plenty of blood on my hands. But I'm no one's executioner. I'm not going to fight Bendak, even if he's all for it."

Carth searched my eyes for a long moment, no doubt looking for signs that I was lying. And for once, I simply let him. No snide comment, no quirked eyebrow, no unreadable sabacc face. It was my way of making up for being such a schutta earlier.

Besides, I wanted him to trust me, which was why it stung so much that he didn't.

"All right," he said, evidently making up his mind that I was telling the truth. "In that case, I guess I should be wishing you good luck." He nodded toward Ice, who was dispassionately polishing her vibrosword and ignoring all the mere mortals in the room, as per usual.

"Thanks," I said, allowing myself a small grimace as I followed his gaze. "I don't suppose she'll warm up to me any more if I beat her, will she? No pun intended."

I watched Carth out of the corner of my eye, waiting for a disparaging shake of his head, maybe a sympathy chuckle—some sign that our fragile peace had been restored and it was safe to joke around again.

To my relief, it came, in the form of a faint, crooked smile.

"No, I doubt it," he said, the playful glint that had been missing from his eyes finally reappearing. "But I think you're getting a little ahead of yourself. You still need to win the duel."

I put on a good show of looking hurt, knowing he wouldn't buy it.

"Don't you have any faith in my fighting abilities whatsoever?"

"If I didn't, I wouldn't be betting our lunch credits on you winning, would I?" he said, playing along. I'd forgotten just how good it felt to trade pointless jabs with him. It was almost like day one again, when he'd laughingly dared me to throw my worst insult at him… and called me beautiful. The only difference was that now I knew what was really running through his mind all that time, buried under all the light-hearted teasing: a deep-seated mistrust.

Except when it came to my abilities. Those, he never doubted. Carth might not have trusted me to do the right thing, but he knew he could count on me to accomplish just about anything I put my mind to. It made for an odd sort of alliance—the kind that probably only works when both parties have no other choice, which we didn't. But even when I could feel him watching my every move, scrutinizing me for ulterior motives, I got the sense that Carth was waiting for me to prove him wrong. Maybe he wanted to trust me, and it was just going to take some time.

It was a long shot, but luckily for him, I was a firm believer in second chances. And third chances. I had to believe there was hope for us yet— if not as friends, then at least as a team that wasn't so dysfunctional it prevented us from saving Bastila. And for the first time in days, it was looking like my hope might not be unfounded.

"What are you waiting around for?" Carth asked, jarring me out of my introspection. "Get out there and prove I'm a smart gambler. I have a reputation to maintain here."

The sheer absurdity of the comment sliced through the tension like a lightsaber through flimsiplast.

"You?" I laughed. "I'm the Mysterious Stranger. You're just my sidekick."

"Sidekick?" His eyebrows shot up, and for a second I thought I'd actually rendered him speechless— or worse, offended him just when things were starting to look up. But he recovered like a pro.

"You may be the celebrity, but I still outrank you in the real world," he reminded me. "I can have you stationed on some backwater planet for the rest of your life where the only audience for your wit will be womp rats and gundarks."

"You would miss me too much," I said, though I doubted he actually would. "Come on, admit it. You find my irreverent humor charming."

"You're right. My life would be meaningless without any subordinates who have the cheek to call me a lobotomized gamorrean to my face."

I shrugged, and may or may not have given him an evil grin as well.

"Hey, you asked for it."

"I did," he conceded, returning the smile. "Now are we going to stand around chatting all day, or are you going to make yourself useful and go humiliate another professional duelist?"

Again with the "let's get back to the task at hand" attitude. It was his answer to everything. But I found I didn't mind so much this time.

"Fine, but only if you buy me lunch," I said, glancing back at him over my shoulder as I marched across the room to my favorite slimy, half-ton duel manager. "And it had better be someplace nice! With any luck we'll be dining in the Undercity tonight."

It had become a running joke to fight over who paid for meals, since we were living off of the same tiny pool of credits. Somehow it never got old.

"On one condition," Carth called back. "You have to come up with a better nickname for me."

"Done," I agreed. "But I get to define 'better.'"

I heard him mutter a few curses, but he didn't go back on his word. He was a decent guy, Carth Onasi. It was a shame he'd been betrayed sometime in his undisclosed past. It was hard to imagine he could have done anything to deserve it.

Maybe I would give him a less derisive nickname. Eventually.

If Ajuur noticed my wicked smile, he probably chalked it up to some sort of sadistic anticipation for kicking the snot out of my next opponent. I didn't care. There was only one person in the room whose opinion mattered to me.

"I'm ready for my next duel," I told the hutt.

And five minutes later I was sauntering back over to Carth, waving a handful of credits. Well, sauntering as well as I could while favoring my right arm and injecting another medpac into my leg. I didn't think I'd broken anything, but Carth had been right to worry. I only won by a narrow margin.

"You're a mess," he said, taking in my haggard appearance. "I can't take you anywhere nice like that. You'll scare away all the respectable patrons."

"Good. They could use a reminder what life is like for the millions of people on this planet who actually have to work for their money."

Carth shook his head, trying and failing to repress a smile.

"Yeah, well, I think it might be best if we save the reminders for another time."

"You promised," I said, swaying a little. He reached out to steady me, and I didn't protest. I found his eyes and blinked until they came back into focus. "A deal's a deal."

"If you get to define a 'better' nickname, I get to define a 'nice' restaurant," he said.

Blast. I had to give him that one.

"All right. Lead the way… meatbag."

"You must be in worse shape than I thought if that's the best you can come up with," Carth said, giving me another once-over as we wound our way back through the cantina. I had swallowed my pride and accepted his offer to let me hang onto his arm, which was another sign of how beat I was. But I'd used up our last medpac, so I didn't really have another choice until we could restock at the medcenter or Kebla's shop.

"I was trying to be nice," I said, wrenching my attention away from my aching limbs for a moment. "Or would you prefer something along the lines of 'slag-sucking space slug'? 'Sexless marsh-toad,' perhaps? I've got more."

He laughed.

"Where did you learn all of these?"

"The playground, mostly. My co-workers tended to curse in alien languages, so you wouldn't understand most of my more sophisticated insults."

"I think you're bluffing. I don't think you've got anything more sophisticated."

"Ouch. Well, you'll never know, will you, sleemo?"

"Okay, I know that one."

"How about di'kut?"

"No, you've got me there."

"Stoopa?"

We spent the rest of the walk to the medcenter testing Carth's knowledge of alien insults—and most of the walk to Javyar's Cantina as well. (It had better prices than the one in the Upper City.) Amidst all that brainstorming, it never once occurred to me to wonder where I'd picked up the relatively bland term "meatbag."

If I'd remembered, we would have been having a very different conversation.

To be continued…

As you can tell, Carth will probably be getting more than his fair share of screen time. What can I say? I'm biased. But there will be plenty of other chapters that focus on the other characters as well, once Revan starts picking them up.