Their wooden staves clashed in a flurry as Ariv and Bastila sparred. Golden light streamed through the sparring room's large windows, and the two of them were the only ones there. Usually, Master Zhar would stand in the corner of the room, observing their duel, but he was conspicuously absent.

It had been nearly three months since he had agreed to the Jedi's inane mission, and since then all they'd done was train. Every day he followed the same monotonous routine, get up at the crack of dawn, meditate for hours and then spar with Bastila, (which in his opinion was just an excuse for her to beat the shit out of him), and then read about the Jedi in the library while she warned him about the dark side in hushed tones.

It wasn't bad per se, it was just boring, and it made him angry to some extent: not just at the Jedi but at himself too — clearly his training was going slower than he wanted while a war still raged across the galaxy. Maybe if he'd been a better Jedi then Bastila could be out there, using her abilities for good rather than wasting her time with him. However the Jedi did not seem to have any such doubts – in fact, to him, it seemed as though they did not mind his slow progress, and were dreading if he were to learn faster.

Bastila's staff narrowly missing the top of his head was what brought his attention to the mock duel he was part of. The Jedi was showing minute signs of exhaustion, her breath came hard and fast and sweat dotted her forehead. Ariv himself was in no better state but as time had passed he liked to think he'd improved, they had been going at this for an hour, a few weeks ago by now, Bastila would have him flat on his back, utterly defeated.

It wasn't surprising that she'd managed to get rid of so many Vulkars back on Taris when they'd first met after the swoop race. After studying the saber forms, Ariv had pieced together that her favoured styles were Jar'kai – useful for someone wielding a double-sided blade and Soresu – which focused on patience and analysis of their opponent's moves – hoping to tire them out before attacking and claiming victory. She'd perfected both to an art form, and the latter had been the cause of defeat for Ariv many times, even now he could see her eyes eagerly seeking out any openings or weaknesses that she could exploit.

If it was someone else, he would have attacked, brought his staff over their head in a misleading manoeuvre only to change directions at the last minute before going for the side, but he knew now that a Jedi's reflexes would be quick enough for her to block both with ease.

Today, he wouldn't be the first to give in, he'd test her patience against his. Bastila swung at him and he ducked out of the way, but she didn't let up and continued to attack – something a little out of character for her. Ariv continued to dodge and block her attacks as well as he could, reminding himself that while he'd grown accustomed to Bastila's usual style he knew he would never know what forms any Sith would use against him.

Bastila continued whacking at him till she finally got a blow to his dominant arm, Ariv switched hands, knowing his arm was going to bruise, but he couldn't stop fighting. Finally, they broke apart, and Bastila put distance between them before he could get a strike in and they circled one another.

The duel continued that way for nearly an hour before Ariv made his move, he put all his strength into the strike — something he realised was a mistake as soon as he'd made it, Bastila blocked his blow and quickly ducked away from their staves. And because he'd overcommitted, he stumbled for a split second as Bastila's staff disappeared before regaining his footing but that time was more than enough for the Jedi to ram the business end of her staff into his chest.

"If this was a real saber," she panted, staff firmly pressed against him, "you'd be dead." With that she moved away, leaning against her weapon.

Ariv sighed, massaging the spot where her staff had been jammed, for someone who was little less than a foot shorter than him, her strikes were powerful.

"If this was a real saber," he answered, "I'd have killed myself on it last month."

Bastila rolled her eyes, putting it away and said, "Now, you spar with the droids."

Ariv's head snapped up, "Wait—what? Come on," he complained, "we've been at his for hours, give me a break."

Bastila glared, "The Sith won't give you a break, and I might've reconsidered had you won the last duel, but you didn't." She walked to the droids and powered them up, selecting the weapons they'd use against him.

"I can handle a bunch of droids," he said a little petulantly and then smirked, "I am the last Tarisian duelling champion after all."

Bastila scoffed, "It was hardly a challenge," she answered, clicking a blaster to stun before placing it into a droid's hand, "especially for someone like you! The first man you duelled with was an idiot–he couldn't even shoot properly–the rest were hardly better, relying mostly on clumsy weapons like blasters or grenades. They could barely hold a sword, let alone properly fight with one."

Ariv winced, "Ouch, you really know how to hurt a man's ego, but you–"

" —You are a Jedi, you must learn humility! I don't care about your ego–"

"—You, love, are in another league entirely, you defeated Revan—"

"—That's not how it went and you know it!" She hissed, turning to face him at last and he shrugged.

"My point still stands and anyways, how did you know about my duels on Taris?" He asked, cocking his head to the side.

Bastila sighed, "One of the guards at the Black Vulkar's prison was apparently a fan of the ring—he was livid when you emerged victorious—having placed his bet on all your opponents."

Ariv blinked, "All five times?" he asked.

"Yes," Bastila answered, "I'm not one to bet on things like these, but it was a foolish decision." Before he could say anything Bastila ordered, "We must return to more important matters."

She gave him a once over and said, "I won't deny that you're better than most at duelling and you've only improved since you came here, but–"

"—I need to do better," he finished for her, grabbed his staff again and fell into an opening stance for Form I, knowing that she was right. As tired as he was, Bastila may show kindness and let him be for now, but the Sith would not do the same.

"Let the droids do their worst," he added as Bastila sat on the bench and the training droids advanced on him.

?￢ﾟﾡ? ?￢ﾟﾡ? ?￢ﾟﾡ?

The muggy and oppressive air that shrouded the entire place pressed on him and his troops and the barks of tall trees, large leaves and other flora obstructed nearly all of his vision. He gestured for his troops to move ahead, and they followed as silently as they could. It was dark, and the shadows created by scant light morphed into the shapes that tricked one into thinking that deadly beasts hid in their midst.

But, he could also hear the sound of thumping drums and voices chanting naasaad'guur mhi, mhi n'ulu! Perfect, the fools were already deep in their cups, assuming that the Republic would back down simply because a battle was fought today – no, now was the perfect time for him to strike.

He gestured his troops once more and they came in closer to the camp, still hidden in the bushes. He peered through his macrobinoculars and saw what he'd expected – a large fire dominated the centre of the camp – and a few Mandalorians sat around it, jovially belting a chant declaring that others didn't like them, and they couldn't possibly care less.

Well, they got that right, he mused internally and advanced closer. Large tents were placed close to each other, and on the other side of the camp was a stream, across which another camp was similarly made.

In the distance, near the stream, he could see his target — Cassus Fett, still wearing his golden armour and gripping a large tankard and spilling ale around him and they continued to play instruments and sing.

He snuck closer to the camp and primed his weapon, gripping the cylindrical hilt closer while fifteen Jedi and soldiers alike spread out according to the plan they had discussed beforehand.

He walked closer, weapon ready and came across a Mandalorian guarding the border, knocking the man out and removing his helmet and armour and quietly wearing it.

This way he could go in with ease, and the weight of the mask on his face felt familiar and comfortable. He went closer to the stream, closer to where Cassus Fett had been sitting mere moments ago – but the Mandalorian General was nowhere to be found.

Puzzled, he looked around him, perhaps the man had decided to call it a night sooner than expected. A pit formed in his stomach – had he miscalculated somehow?

Deciding that he would have better luck with someone accompanying he went to Caraeli was supposed to be stationed only to hear "Looking for someone?" from behind him.

He turned around cursing in his mind, and took in a sharp breath as he realised there she was — and the soldier was valiantly struggling against Fett's grip but the man refused to leave her be.

Similarly, behind them, more soldiers and Jedi were trying to fight their way out — they'd been discovered. But that…that made no sense, how could they have been found out so easily?

He had a choice, he could fight against these Mandalorians and manage to escape, but he looked at his comrades struggling against a camp where they were outnumbered and made his choice. He wouldn't be a coward and run, he'd try his hardest to get them out of there.

"I didn't think that the intel would be real, that the Republic would be stupid enough to stage an attack so soon, but I suppose you lot are."

All he remembered was a feeling of profound horror, that all his work to get his troops had been for nothing and they'd walked right into a trap before a stun bolt was aimed his way and he managed to evade a few before one found his mark and he collapsed, unconscious.

Ariv suddenly woke up from his sleep, panting hard. He sat up, sighed and held his head in his hands. He had remembered his participation during the Mandalorian Wars on Dxun, while a part of him was overjoyed that slowly his memories were coming back, he'd rather not remember what was one of the worst battles of his life. He lay down again, trying to find some sleep before he'd have to get up early again, but to no avail.

He gave up a few minutes later, threw the sheets off himself and went out of his chambers in the Enclave. It was past midnight and the place was almost entirely empty. Occasionally a droid patrolled the corridors to ensure that none of the padawans were up past curfew, but Ariv evaded them with ease and found his way into the courtyard.

The two moons of Dantooine floated high over the sky, overlooking the plains' lavender and pale yellow grass. He closed his eyes, leaning against the stonewall of the Enclave and slid down to sit on the soft balmgrass. He folded his arms and reached out and into the force, something that oddly enough, brought him peace. He could sense the presence of the Jedi within the Enclave and the subdued presence of life all over the planet.

It was entirely calm and quiet, so very different from the constant bustle of Coruscant or the whine of engines aboard a ship. All he could hear was the whistle of the wind as it wove through tall stalks of grass and the occasional calls of the fabool. He could understand why the Jedi would make an academy here – it was a peaceful planet far from the busy and forever moving worlds of the Core and Inner Rims, and it did not lay near any trading route, so it was rather isolated and peaceful.

Ariv liked to think that his homeworld of Deralia had been like that before the Mandalorians had conquered it. Maybe his parents — whoever they had been — had been farmers like the locals here, before they had been killed by the Mandalorians. Maybe he would've grown up to be a simple farmer too, had he not been taken in by a scholarly woman who had raised him on a ship and then sent him off to Coruscant to study. He rarely thought of her lately, she had been a good influence–

"Couldn't sleep?" A soft voice that Ariv recognised to be Bastila's inquired, breaking the silence that had settled over him. His eyes snapped open as he realised she had snuck up to him, and the Jedi awkwardly wrung her hands before sitting beside him. Ariv sighed and nodded, knowing that there was no point in lying to her.

"Me too," she answered and he half-smirked, "Clearly," he remarked, "otherwise, you're rather aware of what you're doing while sleepwalking."

Bastila rolled her eyes but did not dignify his statement with a response and continued to nervously wring her hands.

"Did you see my nightmare too?" He asked her in a whisper after a few moments of silence.

The Jedi sat straighter but nodded, and confirmed, "The Mandalorian camp?"

Ariv sighed, "Sorry," he began, quietly but meaning it, "I'm delighted that my memories come to me in dreams like this, but you shouldn't lose out on sleep because of it."

"It's not your fault," Bastila assured him, "it's the bond."

"Still," he conceded, "perhaps we could increase my focus on learning to block the bond?" he offered and Bastila shook her head, "That is probably the right thing to do but…we need the bond…in case we have another mysterious vision about the ruins. I'm sorry that this is an unnecessary and unwanted side effect but my priority can't be anything but the force."

Ariv nodded understanding, "Besides," she murmured, "who knows? Next time you may see one of my memories." The Jedi seemed uncomfortable by the mere prospect of it, and he could sympathise with her, after all, who would want someone who was essentially a stranger to see their most vulnerable moments in a dream?

The two of them sat quietly, and Ariv mused over his relationship with the Jedi. The two of them could work around the bond without mentioning it too much, but they would, on more than one occasion get into heated arguments over many things – they often disagreed on the Mandalorian Wars – the very subject of his nightmares, which Ariv found ironic, because unlike her, he'd actually fought in them.

Otherwise, they'd get into a debate about the Jedi's ideals that would inevitably end with her practically hissing at him and the Chronicler of the Academy, Master Dorak kicking them both out of the library for creating excessive noise and their discussion would resume over dinner in the cafeteria.

That was one part of his routine that he didn't find monotonous or boring in the slightest, in fact, he enjoyed the verbal sparring with Bastila, even if sometimes she would tell the Council of his opinions on the Jedi. That bothered him a bit and bothered the Masters a lot, but eventually, they gave up and let her deal with him. She was obviously intelligent but refused to see past the Jedi ways.

"If you don't mind telling me…what did I…we…see?" she asked at last and Ariv thought about what answer he should give.

He could lie and tell her that he didn't remember the rest when he did or opt–out, but… "Will you tell the Council?"

"If you don't want me to, I shan't breathe a word of it to anyone. This will stay between us," she answered and he thought about it for a moment longer. He had not told anyone about what had happened after he and his troops had been captured and while he'd stopped bothering about the Jedi's opinion of him, he had absolutely no desire for the Jedi masters to share these memories.

Bastila's answer sounded honest and Ariv considered his options. He shared a force–bond with this Jedi, and according to what little information was available to him, a bond was not easy to break and had dire consequences for those who did.

"As you can tell, it was during the Mandalorian Wars," he began, deciding to trust the Jedi who he was, for better or worse, essentially tied to.

Bastila looked surprised that he'd chosen to share what his memory had been about but only continued encouragingly, "On Dxun?"

"...Yes," he answered, shocked that Bastila knew, "How did you…you didn't fight in that war."

"I didn't," She agreed, "But I read about it. Once my… abilities developed, my master advised me to read about warfare, to one day prepare me for the horrors of it, should the worst scenario come to fruition."

"So you followed the Mandalorian Wars as they continued to wage across the galaxy, and still refused to join?" he asked pointedly and Bastila tensed.

"Yes," She answered truthfully, "and before you tell me that I was wrong, consider the fact that I was too young for most of it, the Revanchists and Navy had a strict policy that forbade anyone below the age of eighteen to enlist with them. And I will not feel sorry for not joining in a war that wasn't a Jedi's to fight."

Ariv scoffed, "Do you hear yourself? Is it not the duty of the Jedi to help those in need and to protect the light? And it's not just about you, what about the Jedi Council? Surely, they were old enough to do something."

"The Jedi are not warriors, we are keepers of peace."

"Should that duty of keeping peace not extend to making sure that innocent worlds don't burn and fall in the hands of cruel invaders?"

Bastila glared at him, "The Republic has a Navy and a Senate for a reason. We cannot interfere with every issue and you must realise that the Jedi were overtly cautious, after all, our numbers had fallen after the Great Sith War—"

"And the Navy's didn't? Clearly they were so incompetent at their job—still are—that they rely on the Jedi for help."

Bastila narrowed her eyes at that, "You worked with the Navy and think that they're incompetent?"

"I don't think that, I know it, I've seen it myself, especially the corruption in the Senate and I'm not the only one who has seen it, why do you think it was so easy for Revan to convince so many Jedi and Republic troops to side with him?"

Bastila stood up at his words, outraged, "What—what do you mean easy for him to convince— do you know how many Jedi were tortured into submission!"

Her face reddened with anger and her expression twisted into something vaguely familiar that Ariv couldn't quite place his finger on, "Forget it!" she half-yelled, "I can't possibly expect you of all people to understand!"

With that, she marched away and into the Enclave muttering something about how he was the worst possible person to have this discussion with and that she couldn't believe she'd forgotten, even for a moment, who she was talking to, despite everything. He followed her half-heartedly, calling out her name, but gave up as she disappeared down a corridor that led to her quarters.

Her vague statements left him confused and frustrated, but he made his way to his quarters too, the little peace and quiet he'd found both with and without Bastila, shattering entirely.

?￢ﾟﾡ? ?￢ﾟﾡ? ?￢ﾟﾡ?

"Well, well," Ordo began as Ariv took a seat beside him at the bar counter, "look what the tooka-cat dragged in."

"Canderous," Ariv acknowledged, flagging the bartending droid and calling for a drink. It didn't take long for the droid to bring it to him, after all, it was a weekday night, and the cantina was not too full.

"What brings you out of your prison?" Ordo asked and Ariv sighed.

"It's hardly a prison," Ariv answered tersely, but frowned he had indeed spent all his time within the Temple grounds and had to argue with a kriffing guard droid of all things to get out.

"Whatever," Ordo said, downing the rest of his drink, "Jedi training not treating you well?"

Ariv swallowed his drink before answering, "It's going…alright."

Ordo scoffed, immediately sensing his lies and Ariv only looked at the older man and sighed, "We can skip the painful and awkward small talk Ordo, and you can tell me why you're still here of all places."

It had been a few days since Bastila had stormed off after their…disagreement. Since then, the Jedi's entire demeanour changed, it was like they were on Taris again. She ignored him most of the time and did her perfunctory duties.

After a day, he'd given up, thinking that if he couldn't have anything, he could at least have his pride. Ariv realised his statement about Revan had been a little….tone–deaf, for lack of a better word, especially since Bastila had personal experience in dealing with the Sith Lord.

But he still stood by what he'd said, he'd seen the Senate's corruption firsthand, how the senators would subtly try to rearrange the Republic fleet to defend planets to protect their assets rather than the worlds that actually needed the help. Revan had done his best to try and prevent that, even at the risk of antagonising powerful senators and most of the army had supported him.

Canderous shrugged answering at last, "I don't have to be elsewhere, and I'm not giving up the Hawk so easily. Don't forget that you and I both stole it from Davik."

"It was a Republic ship," Ariv pointed out and Ordo guffawed, "Like I give a damn!"

He only shook his head, "You can't possibly be lingering near a Jedi Enclave of all places solely because of a ship," he pointed out and the Mandalorian took a swig of his drink before answering.

"True," he conceded, "I heard reports of a Mandalorian Clan on the planet, that's the real reason why I'm still here."

Ariv nearly choked on his drink, there was an entire clan of Mandalorians here, on Dantooine of all places—the planet couldn't possibly get any more remote or quaint and yet the Mandalorians had settled here—to do what, harass farmers?

"Planning on rejoining your people at last?" He asked Ordo who scoffed and said, "Absolutely not, the Clan here is full of cowards. Our armies conquered entire systems, there's no honour in defeating a bunch of defenceless farmers. They're pathetic, taking scraps when they should be taking worlds."

"...that still doesn't explain what you want with them."

"I want to show these fools what a real Mandalorian is like—we have fallen a long way since making the very Republic tremble despite all hailing from one world with an army half its size."

Ariv smirked, "Fallen...like becoming a mercenary for Outer Rim crime lord?" Ordo only glared but he continued, "Would you go against another Clan? What if it turns out to be your very own Clan Ordo?"

"Oh it won't be my own, I'm sure of that," Canderous assured him, "Veela would never stoop to such a low."

"...Veela?" he asked tentatively, "A story for another time, kid," Ordo said too quickly.

"In any case, I'm ready to make my move. Will you join me?" Ordo asked.

Join him? Ariv thought, this was no official mission and he was sure that the Jedi Masters would hardly be pleased if he snuck off to fight a Mandalorian Clan…but he could try, one last time, perhaps the Jedi may reconsider—Dantooine was their home in many ways, perhaps they'd act at last.

Ordo mistook his silence as hesitation and added, "Even the Captain has deigned to join me," in hopes of persuade him into joining.

"Carth?!" Ariv asked, surprised, he couldn't believe that the Captain would go on a mission that was obviously not sanctioned by the Navy.

"Yup," Ordo said, grinning, "Even Republic got bored of his assignment. He's been helping me out in scouting for information."

"Huh," Ariv thought aloud, and "Afraid of a couple of old Jedi hoots?" Ordo supplied and Ariv rolled his eyes, "I'll think about it," he answered. First, he'd speak to Bastila about it, maybe she'd help–or maybe the Council would. He'd run it by her first and if refused then…well, he'd cross that bridge when he get there.

Ordo raised his tankard in a gesture of acknowledgement, "All right. But I need an answer by the day after, Republic and I are getting to the last stage of our planning."

Ariv remembered what he'd wanted to ask the Mandalorian, he'd asked around about the wayward Twi'lek girl and found out that she'd been doing better. It had been weeks since they'd spoken and unfortunately, the Council forbade him from doing too much because of their stupid no–attachment rule. He hated that with a burning passion and regretted that on most days he was run ragged and barely had the energy to make it to his room before falling asleep.

"Have you seen Miss—" and he was interrupted by a familiar voice that called out to him, "Ariv!" and a tiny figure barreled into him.

Ariv recognised it to be the very girl he was going to ask about, and the Twi'lek pulled away, grinning up at him. "Where have you been?!" she asked outraged, "I've hardly seen you since we came here!"

"I'm alright kid," he answered smiling and patted her on the head, "The real question is how are you?"

"I've been doing well! The lady at the Temple has really helped me feel better about, y'know, Taris," her entire cheerful demeanour changed at the mere mention of her now-razed homeworld, "And it still hurts when I even talk or think about it, but not as much as it used to before."

"I am glad that you're doing better," he said, smiling, realising that Mission—as mature and intelligent as she seemed–she was still only a child. He promised himself that once his training was over, he'd make time for the girl on their expedition.

"How's teethree?" he asked changing the topic quickly seeing the familiar sadness settling in her eyes, and it vanished in an instant as she spoke of one of her favourite topics–droids.

"The little droid has been helping me in taking care of the Hawk, and he's also teaching me how to fix him up, just in case anything goes wrong," she answered, "If that's ok with you and Bastila," she added hastily, "I mean you are the ones who bought it."

"Well, as long as the astromech is in one piece and working, we don't mind," he answered truthfully. The girl smiled and it was the truth, both of them had no use for the droid at the moment and it was better that Mission was learning something rather than the droid sitting and rotting away, abandoned.

"Can we go out and talk?" Mission asked and Ariv nodded, following the Twi'lek after giving Canderous one last look, their conversation at the forefront of his mind.

?￢ﾟﾡ? ?￢ﾟﾡ? ?￢ﾟﾡ?

A small transport ship had landed in the space-port near the Jedi Enclave and a steady stream of passengers exited, collecting their belongings and going about their way. Mission walked beside Ariv as they walked around the port, and the girl asked him questions about his training, which he answered as well as he could. He'd bought her some freshly made adder moss chips which she munched on during their conversation.

Ariv spotted a yellow-skinned Twi'lek, whose eyes widened on seeing Mission, she minced over to them and Mission's calm expression morphed into fury as the other woman drew closer.

"Mission?" she asked incredulously and smiled brightly on seeing the young girl, "It's me, Lena. Remember? I was dating your brother back on Taris!"

"Your brother?" Ariv asked, surprised, Mission had never mentioned him.

"...we haven't seen each other in a while," she answered his question first, "He'd been long gone from Taris when you came." She then turned to Lena, and asked, "What… what are you doing here? Where's Griff?" her voice became excited towards the end, eyes darting about the space-port as if expecting her brother to pop up.

"I'm just passing through," Lena explained, "Griff and I broke up a few months after we left Taris together. Probably for the best. Your brother can be charming, Mission, but he's bad news," she warned.

"Don't you start trashing my brother, you cantina rat! Take that back or I'll smack you so hard your head-tails will pop off!" Mission answered angrily and Ariv's eyebrows raised at her declaration. It wasn't too surprising, after all, Mission was very protective of the ones she cared for, he remembered how determined she had been to get Zaalbar away from the clutches of the Gamorrean slavers.

Lena, on the other hand, looked appalled, "What-? Mission, what's wrong with you? Why are you acting this way?"

"You took my brother away from me!" she shrieked, "and left me on Taris!"

Lena looked even more confused, "You could have come with us if you wanted to! It was your choice to stay behind!"

"You liar!" Mission accused, "Griff told me you didn't want his little sister tagging along – that's why he had to leave me behind!"

Lena cursed softly, "Is that what the Hutt-spawn told you? I wanted you to come with us Mission. I even offered to pay for your ticket! Why not? I paid for everything else while I was with that freeloader. But he told me you didn't want to leave Taris. I said we shouldn't even go then—you were hardly older than ten, but he said we'd come back and get you after we struck it rich on Tatooine – just another one of his many lies!"

"No – you're the one who's lying! Griff wouldn't… he wouldn't try to leave me behind!" Her voice increased with every word and Ariv was suddenly afraid that he might have to physically restrain the girl from lashing out.

"Why should we believe you, Lena?" He asked at last and the Twi'lek looked at him, Mission's furious expression and sighed.

"Think about it. If Griff wasn't trying to ditch you, Mission, then why didn't he tell you where we were going?" she began, "After we left Taris he told me looking after you was holding him back – Griff's always looking to blame other people for his own problems. That's why he abandoned you. He did the same thing to me, too, as soon as I ran out of money. He started blaming me for all his problems. Like it's my fault his get-rich-quick schemes never work out!"

"You're lying!" Mission said again, "Where's my brother now?"

"Still on Tatooine, as far as I know. Not that I really care anymore. And if you're smart you'd forget about that no-good con artist!" Lena answered hotly, and Ariv could sense the truth behind her words.

"But Griff is my brother! I can't just pretend he doesn't exist! If he was here to defend himself you wouldn't be saying all this bad stuff about him!"

"That's what he does, don't you see? He's good at manipulating others to get what he wants, look," Lena said before Mission could protest again, "if you want to talk to Griff go ahead. Last I heard he was going to make a fortune working the Czerka Corp mines in Tatooine. But as far as I'm concerned he's out of my life forever!"

Mission's eyes narrowed with anger and she yelled, "Griff's better off without you anyway, you table-dancing, brother-stealing home wrecker!"

"I guess that's my cue to leave, then," Lena said, backing away, "I didn't mean to upset you, Mission. But one day you'll see I'm right about your brother. I only hope it's not too late by then." With that, she walked away from the two of them and towards the shuttle.

"Want to tell me what that was about?" Ariv asked with a raised eyebrow after a few minutes of Mission chomping angrily on her chips.

"I get a little touchy when it comes to Griff," she admitted, "It's kind of embarrassing telling people about him."

"I promise I won't judge…too much," he answered grinning and Mission sulked but answered, "It's complicated. Griff wasn't the most popular guy, he had his faults. But I still loved him, you know? Sometimes people don't understand."

"Go on," he encouraged.

"I never knew my parents, my brother always looked out for me. He's the one who brought me to Taris. I was just a kid, only five. But I remember the trip – if you could call it that. We were stuffed inside a packing crate in a star freighter's cargo hold with just enough food and water to make the trip. Not exactly first class, you know?"

"How could your brother do that to a five–year–old?" he asked, trying to understand how Mission could still defend her brother.

"I don't know the whole story – I was pretty young. But my brother owed a lot of money. Might even have been a few arrest warrants out for him, I don't know. The only way to get off the planet was to smuggle ourselves out. I mean, I don't want to make it sound like we were criminals… well, maybe my brother was. See, this is why I don't like to talk about it. It makes Griff sound worse than he really was. My brother had his problems, but he always looked out for me."

"Problems?" he asked.

"He gambled. And drank. And he was always borrowing money for his latest get–rich–quick scheme. But he had a good heart, you know?" she added quickly, "He taught me how to survive. He showed me how to slice into a computer's security system; how to get inside a locked building without the entrance codes, and how to spot a wealthy mark for a quick shell game."

"Useful skills to have, but a person in charge of caring for a child ought to be more responsible."

"But I really miss him since he left. I keep hoping we'll find each other someday. He promised me he would. That's one of the reasons why I'm so upset about Taris, I don't know how he'll find me–but, " she added, eyes brimming with hope, "Lena said he was on Tatooine, maybe I'll find him there, yes?"

Ariv wanted to say that Griff didn't sound like the type of man to keep his promises but Mission looked so happy at that moment that he couldn't bear to shatter her hopes, so he said instead, "Sure kid, come on, it's getting late, you should be sleeping and I should be back at the Enclave."

He threw away the empty packet that Mission finished and dropped her off at the Hawk before making his way back into the Enclave, mind still racing with what he'd learned — first about Mission's outlaw of a brother and then for much longer on the Mandalorians, and lastly on Bastila before he fell into a troubled sleep.

A/N: hello everyone, it's been forever since i updated, i'm sorry but life's been hectic this past month. i just popped by to say that i've made a tumblr ( the username is starryyknights, i'm looking for moots so i'll follow back) and that this fic is up on ao3 as well!