The Familial Composition – Part II

Odd Ends, Dashbalar city, Ansion, Mid Rim

The start of the Clone Wars...

It was a long and tense day, following a long and tense night.

Shiv was busy going through every contact he still had in the Republic military, trying to find out details - and if there even were details to be found out.

Rumors were circulating hard and fast, detailed and in quantities large enough to agitate even two experienced and retired former agents such as Shiv and Eda. But so far, all Shiv was getting for his efforts was a lot of static from Coruscant. Not knowing was almost as bad as the waiting.

Ro was wandering through the house like a small, pale ghost, clutching a comlink in one fist as if it were the only thing standing between her and drowning in Doruuma's seas. She hadn't said much since waking the house in the middle of the night with her screams. She also hadn't been able to add more than what she'd stammered out originally, as she'd desperately clung to Eda.

Something terrible had happened far away. Many Jedi were dead, the Force was in turmoil and somewhere in the center of that storm was her older brother, Garett.

Ro had been trying to contact the Temple on and off ever since, but if anything, she was making even less headway than Shiv. The Temple wasn't even bothering to acknowledge Ro's growingly desperate messages, while Shiv at least was reaping a polite, but firm, 'classified' for his efforts.

Jedi Master Djinn Altis, whom Ro had called sometime around dawn, hadn't been able to provide them with any further Intel either, except to confirm that what Ro had felt wasn't just a particularly bad nightmare. The entire Altisian sect was in an uproar and the Temple was ignoring Altis' attempts at communication as much as they were ignoring Ro's.

Something very bad had indeed happened and it must have caused the Jedi to mobilize in great force, or why else would there be no one at the Temple who could - or would - speak to Ro and Altis.

Eda, for her part, was doing nothing except watching the flatscreen in the living room. Ensconced in one of the big chairs, her hazel eyes were fixed on the HNE news feed. She had contacts of her own which she could have called up and pressed for information. No doubt her sources, members of the fringe and the seedy underworld, would have far fewer scruples in discussing whatever the Jedi and higher Republic officials did not want talked about until the official story was aired. But Eda already had her suspicions and though she hated herself for it, she did not want those suspicions confirmed until absolutely necessary.

Since the Trade Federation's blockade of Naboo, certain signs had been growing steadily stronger and Eda feared that the wave of dissent that had been steadily growing in the Republic had finally come crashing down.

Eda looked away from the flatscreen as a sniffle announced Ro's return to the living room.

The girl's eyes were red-rimmed from lack of sleep and crying, her face pale and drawn. "Anything?" she asked, hope and dread mixing equally in her voice.

Eda shook her head, her hands flicking disgustedly at the screen. "Prattle," she declared. "More wildfires on Nothoiin. Pirate attacks on the Corellian Run. A senator suicided."

Ro wasn't listening, but fiddling with the comlink she hadn't relinquished since late last night.

Eda went over to settle on the armrest of Ro's chair, putting one arm over the girl's shoulders. "Still no word from the Temple?"

"No and nothing from Garett either." Ro looked up at the older woman and her teal eyes were haunted. "It's not just that he isn't answering my commos, Eda. He's totally shut me out. I can't sense anything through our bond; not if he's alright, or injured or...or..." Tears began to well up in her eyes and rolled down her cheeks in fat drops. Using the sleeve of her robe, Eda wiped the tears away.

"There, there," she told the girl, giving her shoulders an extra hard squeeze. "Your brother is a powerful Jedi. Whatever is happening, he'll be fine."

"But so was Master Coleman Trebor!" Ro cried, extracting herself from Eda's embrace to look the older woman in the eye. "He was a Jedi Master and a member of the Council and I felt him die! He's dead, Eda, just like Tan Yuster and Galdos Stouff and...and Makare Dai and I didn't even like Makare."

"Hush," Eda ordered gently, taking the girl back into her arms. She'd heard this list of the dead before and according to Ro, there were many, many other names on that list.

Altis had also felt many former friends and acquaintances from his Temple days die suddenly and violently, along with many others who were notJedi. Altis hadn't been able to name specific numbers, but he had, tentatively and with a heavy heart, postulated that well over five thousand beings had lost their lives in a single bloody rotation.

Five thousand dead; possibly more. With numbers like that, who needed sources to tell you what had happened? Or what was going to happen in the immediate future.

Eda pressed Ro harder against her, feeling the little Jedi tremble. She was careful to keep her own concerns from the girl and for once, the Force was shouting loudly enough to deafen Ro to the feelings of those in her immediate vicinity. Whether that was a blessing or a curse, Eda didn't know.

"Eda?" Shiv walked into the living room, his gait heavy, his shoulders slumped. One look at her spouse confirmed all of Eda's fears.

"It's happened, hasn't it." It was a resigned statement rather than a question.

Shiv didn't answer immediately, just nodded towards the flatscreen. "The announcement will be aired in three minutes. Mattes just confirmed."

Ro wiped at her eyes, looking from one to the other. "Confirmed what?" she wanted to know. "Eda? Shiv? What's going on? What do you know?"

Eda brushed strands of pale blond hair out of Ro's face, clucking, as was her habit, over the unruly state of the girl's long bangs. "It's just guess work," she told Ro, but the girl wasn't having any of it.

Her brow furrowed and her nose scrunched up as worry and grief was momentarily displaced by suspicion. "You and Shiv don't guess," she told Eda, shooting a look at Shiv as well. "You do know something," she added accusingly.

"All we've got are rumors, little bit," Shiv tried to soothe. "We can make an educated guess, but..."

He was interrupted by a dull tone from the flatscreen.

Three sets of eyes focused on the flatscreen as the brightly smiling newscaster was replaced by the sombre, wrinkled face of Supreme Chancellor Palpatine. Dressed in grey and black robes, Palpatine looked out at them from sunken eyes; his expression grave, his hands folded demurely before him. The usually grand backdrop of the Chancellor's suite of offices was today cast in shadows and mooted lighting.

Eda and Shiv had time to exchange a single, fatalistic glance, before the Supreme Chancellor of the Republic began his first wartime address to his people.

"Citizens of the Republic, it is with a grave heart that I address you know, in this dire hour. For the first time in a thousand years our great Republic is at war."

Ro drew in a sharp breath.

"Over and over again we have tried to find a peaceful way out of the differences between ourselves and the Confederacy of Independent Systems. But it has been in vain. We have been forced into a conflict. This conflict is to be fought not for the sake of territory, but for the very principle for which this Republic stands: freedom and democracy and the strength to stand against tyranny and fear. The first strike has already been dealt on distant Geonosis, where the Separatist forces have crossed the final line and went against the rule of democracy by lashing out against the Jedi Order; the very defenders of the Republic. It was only with great sacrifice on the part of our brave Jedi and our new clone forces that we managed to prevail..."

"Clone forces?" Ro looked from Eda to Shiv, confused. "What's he talking on about? What clone forces?"

But neither Eda nor Shiv answered her; both were riveted to the flatscreen.

Palpatine's figure had been replaced by a view of Coruscant, where massive, wedge-shaped Star Destroyers were lifting into the air, while others were being boarded by ranks upon ranks of white-armored figures.

Eda felt her heart seize up, then slide all the way down to her slippers. The camdroids had zoomed in on the mass of soldiers, revealing T-shaped visors on familiar helmets. Very familiar.

The armor. Those helmets.

And just like that the pieces fell into place for Eda.

"The contract is for ten years." That's what Fett had told them and now, ten years after the blockade of Naboo, which had sparked the Separatist crisis in the first place, the Republic and the CIS were at war.

Jango Fett.

Eda wasn't aware she'd been holding her breath until Ro gently touched her arm. "Eda?" The worried, pinched look was back on Ro's face. "Your Force-aura just did a mono strange skeedooch. What's going on?" She directed this question at Shiv as well.

Eda shot a quick glance at Shiv.

Her spouse looked like a gundark struck between the eyes with a rock; not hard enough to stun, but certainly hard enough to get his blood pressure up.

"Shiv..." Eda started, but her spouse interrupted her with a snarl of breath-taking ferocity, causing her and Ro to flinch back instictively.

"That son of a randy, yapping bitch!"

"Shiv." Eda stood, trying to calm her spouse, but he shook her off with another snarl, his lips peeled back to reveal all of his fangs.

"He sat here - Right. Here! - and he dared to look me in the eye and offer me a job that was meant to lead the Republic to war."

Ro had cringed back into the corner of her seat, her eyes wide with astonishment. She had never seen Shiv in such a murderous rage.

"Shiv. Calm down. He's not worth it."

But Shiv wasn't listening. "I should have killed him," he growled. "I should have killed him then. Vape it, I should have let Montross kill him on Ord Cestus."

"Who are you talking about?" Ro asked timidly.

"Jango Fett," Shiv said, the name almost disappearing in a feral growl.

"He asked us to help train an army," Eda explained, while she pulled Shiv back down onto a chair. "That army, apparently." She pointed at the flatscreen, where the scene had changed once more to display a wide, red desert, dotted with lines of soldiers in gleaming white armor, clearly displaying the familiar Mandalorian lines.

"He knew what was coming." Shiv clenched his hands so hard he was running the danger of piercing his palms with his claws. "He knew what that army was for, what was on the horizon and he didn't have the decency to tell us."

Eda took his hands in hers. It was useless to point out to him now that they too had suspected war was looming. Nor did she mention that Fett would have never revealed more details of his assignment than he had that day, nine years ago, even if they'd hung him up on his heels over a gundark's nest. Shiv was not in a mood to listen and Eda was not in a mood to temper his anger.

Let Shiv growl and snap at Fett's heels. The man deserved it.

Eda glanced once more at the scene on the flatscreen and something else caught her attention. The soldiers on the screen were...strange. She first narrowed her eyes, then they widened as she recognized what had bothered her. The soldiers, marching in neat lines over broken rocks and dunes of red sand, were all of the same height. The exact same height. And the manner in which they moved; the perfect synchronicity with which they boarded the waiting the cruisers...

Palpatine had called them a clone army.

Eda felt a shiver run down her spine as conclusions she did not like settled into the pit of her stomach like a chunk of Hoth ice. She was suddenly overwhelmed by the urge to see the faces beneath those white, anonymous helmets.

Or would it be just a single, familiar face?

Fett. What have you helped set in motion?

Present day...

"I cannot believe he did that." Ro slammed the last of her suitcases onto the bed, practically breathing fire.

Eda, calm on the outside, but just as irritated as Ro on the inside, busied herself by neatly folding laundry and putting it back into the large wardrobe.

"I mean, I told him to behave. I told him how you two are like the most stellar parents in the galaxy and starting to cuss on first meeting just doesn't bring across the right impression and I told him how important this was to me." Ro shut the suitcase with a bang. "Urgh! Why does he have to be such a...a...a mono bombad Kowakian monkey-lizard of a jerk?" With a huff, she dropped onto the bed beside the suitcase, arms crossed over her thin chest and pouting.

Eda sniffed. "He's a man," she said simply.

Ro glanced at the older woman from beneath her bangs. "Shiv's not like that," she protested.

The former mercenary gave the girl a pitying look. "You think he came that way?" she asked derisively. "Shiv is a male. He was thoughtless. He was rude. He was definitely uncouth." She rolled her eyes at some private memory. "It took a lot of training to drill proper manners into the old wolf. I took plenty of fur off his hide."

"So, I shouldn't have been so hard on Cookie?" Ro asked, uncertainty starting to creep in. "On account of that he's a man and can't know any better?" She was already starting to feel bad about what had happened. Alright, so maybe she didn't feel galactically bad for kicking him out on his choobies. He had been acting like a mono exhaust port. And calling her mother all those bad things? Bombad unacceptable. She did, however, feel bad about losing her temper. Sort of.

Might as well be honest about it, Ro. What truly gets under your skin is that you knew he was good at irking tempers and you still walked forehead first into his bad vibes.

Eda gave Ro a hard look. "You did right," she told her daughter. "Such behavior cannot be tolerated. It sets a dangerous precedence."

Ro frowned, glancing at the older woman. "You talk like he's a puppy needing to be house-trained."

"Of course," Eda said calmly, putting away the last of the clothes and eyeing the bag of dirty laundry. "He is a man," she repeated.

Ro smothered a giggle, a sudden image of Wren coming to mind with a tail and puppy ears, being scolded by Eda, waving a rolled-up piece of flimsi threateningly. But the laughter died almost as soon as it came.

Puppy, indeed, she thought sourly. Cookie has more teeth than a flock of kyren. And he was almost casual in his use of them.

Her sour mood restored, Ro kicked her legs against the edge of her bed. "Maybe this whole partner thing wasn't so stellar a think," she finally voiced the fear that had been gnawing at her for the past three days. "I mean, all we've done since jetting Gaftikar is argue. Loudly." She grimaced. "And making Artee miserable. We've been doing a lot of that as well."

"Then dump him," Eda said cooly. "There are plenty more where he came from. Get one with manners."

"There's no one like Cookie," Ro said, surprised at the hostility she sensed from Eda. Alright, so Wren had made the top ten galactically worst first impressions, but cussing out his hostess wasn't exactly cause for planning the best spot to dump his body. Even for Eda that was a bit extreme. "He does have his good sides," she offered, almost meekly.

Eda turned steely eyes on Ro, pointing a stern finger at the girl. "I know his type," she said sharply. "Rude. Crude. Out only for himself. He will leave you cut and bleeding, as soon as something better comes along." She looked out of Ro's bedroom window, her gaze distant. "Leave him," she said again. "Put him back where you found him. Men like that do not deserve better. All they bring is trouble."

The Force around Eda had turned into ice, sharp and broken and utterly untouchable.

Ro jumped off the bed and went over to the older woman, gently touching the edge of her bronze and red shimmersilk sleeve. "Eda, are we still talking about Wren?"

Eda jerked herself out of her thoughts, frowning down at the girl, before waving the concerns aside. "I knew the original," she said simply. "Why should the copy of the man be any different." She jabbed her carefully manicured finger into Ro's chest. "You listen to me. Jango Fett has never brought anything but unhappiness. To his family. His clan. His people. His lovers. And the galaxy. That's the kind of man he was. That's the kind of man he is," and she waved a hand in the direction of the garden and Wren's impromptu exile.

Ro twisted a lock of hair around one finger, thinking it over. What Eda had said made her feel uncomfortable, but she knew better than to simply dismiss anything the other woman said.

Nothing but unhappiness. Wren certainly had excelled in making everyone at Eyat Command Base unhappy. And there'd been some rather...harsh moments between them down in the mine.

"He watched my back in a bombad bad sitch," she said aloud. "I wouldn't have made it out alive if it weren't for Wren."

Eda turned towards Ro, her almond-shaped eyes widening in surprise, while the Force around her shivered under the tremors of her concern for Ro. Gently, Eda took Ro's chin in her hands, turning her face this way and that, scrutinizing her carefully for the first time since Ro's arrival. Eda's thumb traced over a thin, fading line on her cheek; all that was left of a rather uncomfortably close encounter between Ro and three spider droids.

"This was a close one," Eda observed. Her voice was controlled, but her Force-aura was not.

Ro had always likened Eda to a fine songsteel sword, beautiful as well as deadly. Right now, that same songsteel sword was peeking out of its sheath, ready to be drawn in defense of someone she cared for.

"It's a long chinwag," Ro admitted with a sigh, feeling the strain of those last few days settle heavily onto her shoulders. It hadn't really caught up with her yet, all that had happened, but once it did, Ro had no doubt she'd have herself a good, long cry. Maybe she should pack up a bag and go camp out on the plains for a night or two, let herself be soothed by the wind and the endless canopy of stars.

Wonder if Cookie would like that, too?

Eda must have caught on to her thoughts, because she released Ro, giving her cheek an affectionate tap.

"We'll talk later," she told the girl. The older woman eyed the bags still waiting to be unpacked and flicked her fingers in an elegant gesture of dismissal. "These can wait," she declared. "For now, music is in order I believe."

Ro perked up at that. "Want me to snatch my cello?"

A smile curved Eda's shapely lips. "Yes." She looked about the room, her smile turning into a frown. "And you can grab Shiv while you're at it. Lazy wolf," she muttered as she exited Ro's room and made her way to the library. "Always gone when you need him to work."

Ro snickered, then quickly checked the Force to see where Shiv had hid himself away. Her adoptive father had beaten a rather hasty retreat after Eda and Ro had kicked Wren out of the house, no doubt sensing that the two females were not kindly inclined towards his gender at the moment.

Much to her surprise, Shiv wasn't in his workshop, as she'd half-suspected. His affable presence was parked right next to the crackling, lightning like Force-aura of Wren.

Ro frowned, walking down the stairs, back into the shop and towards the backdoor.

"...little give can go a long way," she heard Shiv say. "It's just plain good tactics."

She cleared her throat, causing the two men to turn about sharply. Neither, apparently, had heard her coming.

Feeling suddenly awkward, Ro glanced down her bright yellow dress, smoothing a wrinkle in the silver star-patterend material. Why should I be feeling like the awkward one? she wondered. I didn't do anything wrong.

"Shiv," she said, deliberately not looking at Wren, "Eda says she would like some music now. Do you want to come to the library?"

Curiosity flashed through Wren, suppressed almost the instant it flared up, but it caught Ro's attention.

"I'd like that," Shiv said amiably and straightened, his spine popping loudly. Then, much to Ro's surprise, the old Shistavanen crooked a finger at Wren in a clear invitation. "Come along, lad, you're in for a treat."

Both Wren and Ro stared at Shiv, startled. In addition to her surprise, Ro felt an uncomfortable flush of resentment. Shiv was her father. He should be on her side, not making nice with the jerk who insulted his daughter and wife.

Almost immediately, Ro felt bad for being so petty. Of course Shiv would make friends with Wren; that was just the kind of person he was. And that was what Ro had been hoping for in the first place.

She was acting like a silly youngling, not a grown woman and Jedi.

"Well?" Shiv asked, when the silence had stretched into something uncomfortable.

Ro shot a doubtful glance at Wren from beneath tousled bangs. She might be sorry for her flash of irritation, but she wasn't quite ready to forgive. It wasn't up to her to be the one to constantly absolve Wren for his behavior. That just wasn't fair.

Wren visibly hesitated and Ro thought she sensed a brief flutter of...

She blinked. Had Wren actually displayed...fear just now? He hadn't so much as batted an eye in Shenio's mine, outnumbered by droids and a murderous sociopath. Why would he be afraid now, faced with nothing more threatening than an invitation to listen to some music?

Then that brief flutter of emotion was squashed as Wren regained his composure and walked towards her.

Ro watched him, wary, as Wren revealed the knife she'd thrown at him. What now? Would he retaliated by trying to take a swing at her with her own throwing-knife?

Anticipation on Wren's part was her only warning.

With a skillful flick of the wrist that left Ro wide-eyed with astonishment, Wren flipped the knife, catching it easily and handing it back to her, hilt first.

"You've got kriffing good aim, cheeka," he told her solemnly. "The old bi..." he stopped, glanced at Shiv and changed what he'd been about to say. "Eda does as well."

Ro didn't take the proffered knife. Instead, she cocked her head at Wren, testing the Force around the trooper.

The crackling lightning that was his natural anger had calmed down to a bare flicker. He was still irritated with her and Eda, but Ro sensed that was more from hurt pride than real anger at their actions. Beneath the lightning shield was...

Sincerity. Wren meant what he said, but there was not a smidgen of remorse in him. He wasn't sorry about being rude, not in the least.

Ro narrowed her eyes. Not sorry, but there was something else...something hidden deeper beneath the anger.

Acknowledgement. Recognition. Confusion.

It didn't mollify Ro, but she plucked the knife out of Wren's hand and pushed it back into the arm sheath, hidden beneath her dress' sleeve. She shot Wren another long, scrutinizing look. Wren wasn't sorry for what he'd said, but he knew he'd done something wrong. He just didn't understand what he'd done exactly that was so wrong.

She wasn't ready to forgive just yet, but she was willing to bend just a little. He had managed to unclench enough to actually compliment her and Eda, after all.

Gold star for effort, Cookie, Ro thought as she turned back into Odd Ends. But you're not out of the frying pan just yet.

Wren followed Shiv up the stairs, taking careful inventory of his surroundings.

He'd noted upon arrival the closest exit and entry points; all the nooks and crannies from which an ambush could be sprung and it had not escaped his notice that the three-story tall, square-shaped house had been built as a near impenetrable fortress. The windows were placed at strategic intervals, giving a clear view of all possible approach vectors. Corridors were straight, providing no cover for an intruder and there were many stairs, which automatically forced an enemy to advance fully exposed to any sniper stationed on an upper landing.

But now, he was just looking.

Wren had never been in a civilian home that was so clean and orderly.

He had been in civilian houses before, but those had all borne the marks of war: holes blasted into roofs and walls by heavy artillery, char marks from blaster fire, the simple wear and care of poverty. It occurred to Wren that this was literally the first time he'd set foot on a planet not touched by war. He didn't count his brief visits to the barracks on Coruscant. The clones had been kept well apart from the civilian population and the barracks were so isolated from the rest of the city planet, they might as well have been located on one of the moons. Being on Coruscant was no different than bunking down at the Eyat Command Base.

He brushed the tips of his fingers against the polished wooden walls as he trailed after Shiv, listening to the hushed sound his boots made on the thick carpet.

Everything in this house breathed comfort, but there was also a pleasant sense of familiarity that somewhat dulled the edges of his wariness. It was important to be on the alert in unfamiliar surroundings. You never could tell where an enemy might be lurking, waiting to cut your throat. But there were touches of the military life scattered throughout the house that lessened the alien sense of his surroundings and acted as subtle reassurances to Wren that he was in somewhat friendly territory.

And his host was the most familiar among those martial relics.

Wren glanced at Shiv's broad back.

Ro had dashed on ahead, muttering something about needing to get everything ready, leaving the two males alone once more and Wren was practically grateful for her absence. At least the little nuisance wasn't around to sense his...

Might as well be fekking honest, he thought unhappily. It was awe he felt towards the old Shistavanen, because this was Shiv-kriffing-Sanarl.

He hadn't made the connection when Ro had first told him about her adoptive parents. Shiv Sanarl was not an uncommon name among the Shistavanen, but the prosthetic leg, the tattered ear and the missing eye were a dead giveaway. This wasn't just some old wolf ambling up the stairs ahead of Wren. Shiv Sanarl was a hero of the Republic, a veteran of the Stark Hyperspace War and a leading expert on covert operations. And a legend among the ARC troopers.

Wren's flash-training had included all of Sanarl's military history and as an ARC cadet, he'd been required to recite entire chapters out of the covert op manual Sanarl had written. There'd been other military figures, whose lives and works Wren had memorized, but this was the first time he'd ever come face-to-face with one of them.

In the past, these strategic geniuses and war heroes had been abstract figures; mere dates and statistics in his head. Being able to look one of them in the eye and see for himself the toll war had taken on the body was an experience Wren had never anticipated he'd receive.

And Sanarl was so utterly unlike Fett.

"Here we are, Eda my love. Just like ordered," Sanarl called out jovially. The old Shistavanen moved ahead, to where his wife sat rigidly on a plush chair.

Wren stopped in the entranceway, glancing around the large room.

Every Star Destroyer and frigate had its own library, but none of them compared to this one.

Holonovels intermingled with flimsi-paged books, all lined up neatly on great wooden bookcases that covered most of the walls. Two transparisteel windows gave a full view of the garden at the center of the house and the streets running along at the front. Large chairs and an immense sofa were grouped around a low table in the center of the room, with a piano slightly off to one side.

The library smelled of flimsi, polished wood and something slightly sweet and the lighting was inviting in a manner Wren couldn't define.

"What is he doing here?" Eda demanded from her place on one of the large, light blue chairs.

"Now, now, my love," Shiv soothed, stroking her hand as he settled on the sofa next to her chair. "Wren here is our guest and it's not like we can let him stay on the porch for the rest of his visit."

Eda sniffed, apparently not at all of her husband's opinion on that matter. She gave Wren a hard, poisonous look which he returned in kind.

So the old bitch could throw a knife. That didn't mean he was about to cower before her. Roll on my back, my ass, he thought acidly and moved away from the seating arrangement and towards the transparisteel wall overlooking the street outside.

"Everything still at tolerable levels in here?"

Wren glanced away from the view outside to see Ro entering from the opposite side of the library, wheeling a large case behind her. Wren frowned. That definitely was not the quetarra she'd played during their first meeting on Gaftikar.

"It was more tolerable two minutes ago," Eda snapped.

Wren snarled. "Then why don't I just fekking leave?"

"No," Shiv and Ro said in unison.

"Don't be foolish, lad," Shiv added, with a frown at his wife. "Where else could you go?"

"I'd rather sleep on the kriffing ship than in effing hostile territory," Wren said, glaring at Eda. The old woman didn't flinch.

"Oh, for Force's sake," Ro cried in exasperation. Leaning the large case against a chair, she faced Eda and Wren, fists planted firmly on her hips. "You two, stop it right now. Cookie," she glowered at him from beneath messy bangs, "just put a filter on that mouth of yours, park your cargo hold somewhere nice and enjoy the music. And Eda," she turned to face the older woman, "I know he's a mono jerk, but there's no need for transferring aggressions. If you wannna slice and dice my new partner, then at least do it for his own offenses, not because Jango Fett pricked your skin."

Wren shot a startled look at Eda. She'd known Jango Fett?

Eda had grown even more rigid, if that was possible. Her lips were compressed into a tight, thin line and she wasn't looking at either Wren, Ro or her husband.

"Fekking forget it," Wren growled and turned to leave.

"Fine," Eda snapped out suddenly. "He can stay. For now." She pointed one finger at Wren. "But you are in my house. Amongst my family. Enjoying our generosity. I don't demand that you like me. I don't ask that you are gracious. I certainly do not ask that you are polite." The way in which she said the word made it clear that she didn't think Wren capable of such a feat, even if he had been willing to try. "What I expect," she continued, raising a single, elegantly curved eyebrow, "is acknowledgement. This is not your home. You are a guest. A stranger. Offend me or my family or break the rules and you will suffer the consequences. Clear?"

Wren shot a look at Shiv. The old Shistavanen gave an almost imperceptible nod. The tactics that Shiv had developed and which had been flash-trained into Wren had saved his life more than once on the battlefield. Perhaps taking Sanarl's advice in this situation would be prudent as well. Wren certainly didn't have much to lose, aside from the chance of sleeping in a regular bed instead of a bunk and eating civilian food.

He met Eda's hazel eyes, giving her a sharp nod. "Copy that."

"Good." Obviously satisfied, she settled back into her chair like a queen on her throne. "Now apologize to Ro."

Now it was Wren's turn to go rigid with anger. "I already fekking have," he snapped.

Ro glanced at him, startled. This was clearly news to her and Wren felt a fresh wave of resentment come over him. He shot an accusing glare at Shiv. He should have known complimenting the little nuisance was a fekking waste of time. He never should have shown such weakness.

"Why not take a seat, Cookie?" Ro's voice broke through the growing silence. She offered Wren a small smile. "Music's way better to enjoy when sitting comfortably."

It was up to him now. His choice would decide the outcome of this confrontation. Wren glanced from Ro to Shiv, then looked at Eda. The challenge was clearly visible in the older woman's eyes.

Wren, never one to back down from a challenge, pulled out a chair from a desk and sat down, positioning himself so that his back was to the wall and he could keep the entire room in view, including the two entrances.

Eda shot him a contemptuous look before focusing on Ro. Shiv merely sighed and settled himself more comfortably on the sofa.

Ro hesitated, gazing at all three for a few long seconds before deciding that this was about as harmonious as things were going to get.

With practiced fingers she unlatched the case and pulled out an instrument easily as tall as she was.

Wren cocked his head, observing the play of light over the reddish wood of the instrument. The instrument was shaped like a figure eight, with a long neck and four strings running from the top of the neck down to the hollow body. Ro positioned it against her knees and Wren saw shimmers of purple and blue reflected in the wood.

Ro spent a few moments adjusting wooden knobs attached to the top of the instrument's long neck, then placed a bow against the strings. She closed her eyes and gently drew the bow across the four strings.

Wren didn't know what he'd been expecting. The large instrument was so far out of his experience that he hadn't even hazarded a guess.

But the smooth, mellow tones coming from the large wooden body of Ro's instrument were utterly startling. There was nothing in Wren's repertoire to compare the sounds to, except cool, dark waters and a piece of velvet he'd touched once, covering a stuffed animal left behind in a bombed-out house on Atraken.

He cast a surreptitious look at Eda and Shiv, trying to gauge their reactions, looking for clues as to how to take this unexpected performance.

The old couple was utterly relaxed; Eda had even unbent enough to openly smile fondly at Ro. Shiv, lying on his stomach, had pillowed his head on his crossed arms and was breathing evenly, his one remaining eye half-lidded as he listened to Ro play.

Wren crossed his arms over his chest, the creak of his armor an unpleasant countenance to the deep, mellow melody Ro was creating. Taking his cue from Eda and Shiv, Wren focused his attention solely on Ro; watching the gentle sway of her long, pale blond and blue hair, studying the serene expression on her face and simply listening to the music.

It was good. It was...the exact opposite of everything he'd ever known. There was nothing here to accelerate his heartbeat; nothing that prompted a quick outpouring of adrenaline and constant vigilance.

Was this what civvies meant by peaceful?

Ro carefully put her cello away and joined Wren at the transparisteel window, leaving Eda and Shiv to their quiet discussion about the pros and cons of modern variations on the Bith Exogeny Quartet.

"You've been awfully quiet," she said to the trooper by way of greeting.

Wren's eyes flickered from the window to her. He'd retreated to this silent corner after she'd finished playing her cello and Ro didn't need the Force to sense the brooding cloud hanging over his head.

"What kind of instrument is that?" he asked finally.

"A cello," Ro answered, smiling, as she always did, at the memory of how she'd gotten the instrument. "I helped a Bith musician extricate himself from a crowd of intoxicated and rather ardent critics and he gifted me with the cello as a thanks." Her grin widened. "He said it was too tall for him, anyway."

Wren snorted, but still kept his eyes averted from her.

"Did you...like the music?" she asked hesitantly.

Wren grunted, then seemed to realize that was not going to be a satisfactory answer. "It wasn't like when you played the quetarra."

"So, is that no? Yes? Rent a vowel?"

He looked down and Ro thought she sensed a slight hitch in his Force-signature. Now what did that mean?

"It was good," he said slowly. "Different."

She smiled up at him. "I'm glad. Can I ask you a question?"

Wren finally looked at her, quirking an eyebrow. "You just effing did, cheeka."

Ro giggled. "Good point." The smile died and she fiddled with the triangular charm hanging from her Padawan braid. "I was wondering..." She glanced at Eda and Shiv and lowered her voice, so that only Wren could hear. "Did you mean what you said, about already saying sorry?"

His face closed down like a Mygeeto bank vault door and the lightning-like shield of his anger came up, locking her out.

Ro blew out a breath. "Is this how it's going to be? You being a jerk, me getting mad and expected to forgive and forget? That's not fair, Cookie."

"You apologize for every fraggin' thing in your life," he said through clenched teeth, "and you might as well let the clankers shoot you." He looked down at her, his eyes burning. "I've hurt people a kriffing lot worse than I ever did you. I've fekking killed any sentient who got in my way. You want me to go back to every karking corpse and say I'm vaping sorry? That's a weakness a soldier can't afford."

"I'm not the enemy, Wren," she argued, putting a gentle hand on his clenched fist. His body went even more rigid at the contact, if that was possible. "I'm your partner. I'd like to be your friend." Even more quietly she added, "And it's alright to show a little weakness around friends. You give a little and you might get a whole lot more in return."

They were interrupted by a bone-popping yawn.

Shiv had uncurled from the sofa and was stretching his long frame, his mouth open to expose the gleaming fangs inside, as he yawned a second time.

"Well," he said, scratching behind his tattered ear sedately, "that's enough excitement for this old wolf. I'm off to bed. Eda?"

Eda nodded and held out her hand to her husband, which Shiv took.

Wren rolled his eyes and looked away.

"Ro? Wren?" Shiv asked. "What about you two?"

"I'll show Wren the guest bedroom," Ro volunteered. Impishly, she elbowed the trooper in the side. "Just down from my room, too. It's every girl's dream."

Eda gave Ro a quick hug and a goodnight kiss on the forehead, an action that elicited some interesting ripples from Wren, perplexity being foremost.

Ro actually felt a little sorry for Wren. How was it that a grown man could so easily be thrown by the simplest displays of affection?

Because he's never been on the receiving end, she realized sadly.

She watched her parents leave the library, then with a sigh, she went to retrieve her cello case. The long day was beginning to take its toll on her as well.

An armored hand intercepted hers and grasped the handle of the case before she could.

Startled, Ro looked up into Wren's studiously blank face. He hefted the heavy case like it was nothing, looking at her expectantly.

"So where to?" he wanted to know.

Ro raised a quizzical eyebrow "You being all gallant now?"

He sighed, muttering something no doubt unflattering under his breath. "Your room, cheeka? Where the eff is it, or should I just throw this karking thing out the window and be done with it?"

Ro cocked her head to the side, regarding him for a long, long time, before breaking out into a beaming smile as she finally understood. "Apology accepted," she said, before ducking her head and running up the stairs, giggling madly all the while.

"I never effing apologized!" Wren yelled back.

Rule #5: Apologies are a sign of weakness.

Rule #5a: But sometimes weakness is good.

Author's Note: Well folks, it happened again. Darth Real Life has thrown a major hydrospanner into the gears that are my life and it turns out that updating two stories every week is just too much work for me right now. So To Share a Sky is switching to a new schedule. Updates will occur every other Friday, instead of once a week. Stalwart Wings will continue on its current schedule, however.