Author's Note: This turned into quite the mini-arc, practically without my consent. Go figure.

The Second Month Trial - Part III

Dashbalar city, Ansion, Mid Rim

Once, the great walls that surrounded Ansion's cities had been a bulwark against the hostile Alwari tribal nomads, who had resented the Unity Council's constant encroachment upon the planet's wide, sweeping plains.

Now though, with a firmer peace between the Alwari and Unity of Community in place, the walls had been torn down, finally making room for the much-needed expansions of the cities. In Dashbalar, parts of the wall had been kept in tact; where they'd once been a necessary defence, they were now a tourist attraction and favorite lookout point.

Climbing the many stairs to the top - the Unity Council liked to indulged in these little old fashioned displays as a nod towards the traditions of the Alwari - hadn't put Eda in the best of moods. Finding Wren atop the wall, proving Shiv had been right in his surmise, only added salt to her already frayed patience.

Though normally teeming with sightseers, the wall, on this occasion, was empty except for the lone figure standing wide-legged before the parapet, a blaster braced against his shoulder. Even as she topped the rise, blue plasma shot out from the smoking muzzle and far, far in the distance, Eda saw a lone kyren drop out of the dense swarm that blackened the sky like a storm front, its body consumed by its ever-hungry fellows before it could hit the ground. And already, the clone was targeting his next victim.

To single out an individual animal from a swarm that could easily number several million was an impressive display of skills, but Eda's only response was to press her lips together more firmly. She did, however, briefly wonder when he'd had the time to grab the weapon.

"Of course. Shooting at innocent animals. Why am I not surprised?" The fact that she didn't even like kyren was utterly besides the point.

The lines of Wren's face tightened into a hardened mask, but he did not turn his gaze away from the kyren swarm and continued to shoot down animal after animal.

Eda waited several seconds, hands propped on her hips, one foot tapping against the stones and duracrete until, finally, her patience was fully used up.

Marching up to Wren, she grabbed the barrel of the blaster and wrenched it down with all her strength.

Wren cursed in surprise, barely avoiding shooting himself in the foot.

"What the gfersh is wrong...Kriff!"

She'd grabbed his ear with her free hand, twisting the sensitive appendage cruelly. "You," she snapped, the Huttese accent now heavy in her voice, "march yourself back. And apologize."

He had dark eyes, she registered for the first time; darker than Fett's had been. A mutation from the cloning process, or just the result of the burning anger that consumed him?

"Fek off," he snarled. Her grip had forced him to bend over slightly, so they were now at eye-level, but he was far from cowed.

"You couldn't make me if you tried," she scoffed. "Apologize to Ro."

"Why the fek should I?"

"Because you need her."

He finally tore himself free of her grip, putting some distance - and the blaster rifle - between them.

"You're as kriffing barvy as she is." The expression on his face was scornful and disbelieving. "I need her? I can be on any vaping Republic ship within the crinking hour..."

"You're just like Jango."

That shut him up, though heat flooded his face and darkened the tan of his skin.

Sensing she'd drawn blood, Eda didn't hesitate to go for the kill. "Too proud to admit he was wrong," she spat, closing the gap he'd just created until she was toe-to-toe with the clone. "Too full of anger to find peace. Too full of hate to forgive. He never forgot a wrong. Always holding grudges. Always seeking revenge. You're just like him." She tapped her manicured finger against the scar that curled its way from the right corner of his mouth up to his cheek. No one had needed to tell her how he'd gotten it. That kind of scar wasn't something you received in battle from droids. Someone would have to get very close, very personal, to inflict such damage. Just Jango Fett's style. "A perfect copy."

He'd gone so rigid he was trembling under the strain of his taut muscles.

"You effing don't know..."

"You're also like the killers on Nal Hutta."

"Fierfek! Can't I finish a single fekking sent..."

"No." She narrowed her fine eyes at him, only to lower them so as to sweep his figure in one contemptuous glance. "Those...creatures." Eda didn't try to hide her disgust. Once, she'd been forced to keep her true feelings hidden; with no position or power in the Hutts' courts, she'd have been easy prey for any of the hired assassins and murderers that had roamed those rotten halls, had they an incline as to her true feelings and decided to teach her a lesson. But no more. Eda no longer had to hide anything, unless it pleased her to do so. "All they knew is how to kill. And that's all they did. Angry or happy. Killing came so easily to them." She met his burning eyes squarely once more, proud and erect. In his civilian clothes, plain browns and blacks, he even looked like one of those long ago, empty-eyed killers. "Just like it does to you."

"What's your kriffing point?" he ground out between clenched jaws.

Was it just her imagination, or had he paled just a little at her words?

"They had no soul," she told him tartly. "They killed and killed. Until nothing was left of them. That's why you need Ro. She has a good heart. One big enough to share. You need her to stay Human."

The wind swept over the wall in great gales, tugging at their clothes and hair with greedy fingers. Neither paid it much heed, but the whistle of the wind passing through the parapet at least filled the silence.

Wren was the first to look away. His face was still hard, unreadable in its rigidity, with every muscle of his body tensed as if for action. But the thumb of one hand ran thoughtfully over his scarred knuckles. Eda noted the gesture and tucked it away for later.

When he spoke, there was an oddly strangled note to his voice. "How do you know?"

Unexpectedly, Eda found it was her turn to look away. Speaking to the golden plains that stretched out before the wall, she said: "I came close. To being like them. But Shiv..." She hesitated. This was private...But she couldn't shake the memory of Shiv's final, stern words to her before sending her off to find Wren.

"You know why."

He so rarely used that tone with her, her affable old wolf, that she knew this was a matter of great importance to him. And when something was important to Shiv, it was important to her.

Eyes still locked on the waving grasses, she told Wren, "Shiv made sure I stayed Human."

That was enough. Abruptly, Eda turned on her heel, the sweeping amber hem of her skirt swirling about her feet. The clone could take her advice or leave it. Either way, she was going home. And if the clone decided to jump planet and go back to his army without ever speaking to Ro again...Well, she would rejoice and Shiv couldn't accuse her of not trying her best.

Eda was already on the second step when he called after her.

"I'm nothing like you. Or Fett."

She didn't deign to turn back. "Then prove it."

They met awkwardly, just as night was falling, in the corridor outside of Wren's bedroom; Ro coming and him just about to leave.

For a few seconds, they simply stared at each other, neither moving or speaking. Then, with a tentative, sheepish smile, Ro stretched out her hand and knocked on his open bedroom door.

"See? I can learn."

He grunted, but seemed far more interested in her than her conciliatory gesture.

Ro cocked her head, wondering at the thoughts going through his mind, but restrained herself from using the Force to decipher the deeper emotions running beneath his ambivalent surface - remembering just in time that this, too could be seen as an invasion of privacy.

This...was going to take some getting used to.

But nothing worth having is on the easy come-by, she reminded herself. And she wanted this partnership, she'd decided. Ro was tired of flying alone.

"Sooooo...this is me, saying 'sorry'." She waited a beat for him to say something - anything - but patience really wasn't her strong-suit at the moment. "Your dejarik move, Cookie," she prompted. "Don't keep me in carbon suspension." She tried to smile, but couldn't quite hide her anxiety.

Wren, gosh-tootin' him, let her stew just a bit longer, before finally saying: "You're a kriffing pain in the arse."

Ro blinked. "Commo again-o? Is that clone gibberish for 'a thousand apologies for yelling my head off like a Kowakian monkey-lizard in heat'?"

"Was that," he nodded towards where her fist still rested against his doorframe, "your way of saying you'll stay the kark out of my fekking business?"

"Yes."

"Then, yes."

She squealed in delight, a sound that startled him long enough for Ro to launch herself at her partner in a sneak hug-attack.

"Fierfek! Ro!"

It was a work in progress.

Rule # 15: Partners have no secrets. But they do have their privacy screens.