Ice stood before the Jedi Council, her arms crossed, expression unreadable. The chamber was silent except for the occasional rustle of robes as the Masters observed her, waiting. The weight of their scrutiny was nothing new to her—authority figures had been analyzing, judging, and discarding her for years. But the Jedi? They were on another level. They weren't just deciding her fate. They were deciding whether she was a risk.
Bastila stood off to the side, stiff as ever, her hands clasped behind her back in a display of forced control. But Ice knew her too well to miss the tension in her jaw, the slight twitch of her fingers—small tells of frustration she probably didn't even realize she was showing.
Master Vandar regarded Ice with his usual calm, but there was an edge to his voice when he spoke. "Bastila has informed us of your decision to leave."
Ice let out a sharp breath. "Yeah. And I assume you dragged me in here to try and convince me otherwise."
"There is much at stake," Master Zhar said. "You have played a critical role in events so far. You could continue to be a great asset."
"I already was an asset," Ice shot back. "I helped get Bastila off Taris. I helped you find Revan." Her gaze flickered to Bastila just long enough to make her shift uncomfortably. "But I never signed up for this crusade of yours. And I'm sure as hell not about to start now."
Master Dorak studied her, fingers steepled. "What do you intend to do, then?"
"Get on the first ship out of here and disappear," Ice said flatly. "Like I should've done the second I got off Taris."
"And you would leave knowing what you know?" Master Vrook's voice was sharp with suspicion.
Ice narrowed her eyes. "Don't start with the threats. I already told you—I don't care about your secrets. I don't give a damn about Revan, the Star Forge, any of it. It's not my problem."
"You think it won't become your problem?" Vrook challenged. "If Malak succeeds—"
"I'll deal with that if it happens," Ice interrupted, voice cold. "But I'm not gonna sit around waiting for the galaxy to implode just so I can pat myself on the back for being on the 'right side.' I've spent enough of my life waiting for other people to do something. Not anymore."
For a moment, silence filled the chamber. Ice expected another round of questions, another attempt to pin her down, force her into a corner. But it was Bastila who finally spoke.
"So that's it?" Her voice was quieter than Ice expected. Not anger. Not disdain. Something else.
Ice turned to her, meeting her gaze directly. "That's it."
Bastila's lips pressed into a thin line. "And what do you think running will accomplish? You'll just go back to drifting, wasting yourself on petty fights and mercenary work? You think that's better than—"
"Better than this?" Ice cut in, voice sharp. "Better than following orders like a good little Jedi? Better than marching toward whatever fate your Council has planned? Yeah. I do."
Bastila's composure barely wavered, but Ice caught the slight flicker of something in her eyes. Maybe hurt. Maybe disappointment. Maybe just frustration. Whatever it was, it didn't matter.
She turned back to the Council. "Are we done here? Or do you need me to sign something in blood?"
Master Vandar gave her a long, unreadable look, then nodded. "You are free to leave."
Ice exhaled, turning on her heel without another word. As she reached the door, she hesitated for just a second, almost expecting Bastila to say something. But she didn't.
Good.
She walked out of the chamber and didn't look back.
Ice and Bastila walked in silence as they left the Jedi Council chambers. The air between them was thick with unspoken words, the weight of their past pressing down on them like a storm cloud ready to break.
"So, that's it then?" Bastila finally said, her voice clipped, as if holding back a thousand things she wanted to say.
"That's it." Ice's response was flat, devoid of any emotion. She didn't look at her, didn't slow her stride.
It was the first time they had spoken since Ice's past had been unceremoniously revealed to the entire crew. Since she had stood there, exposed and raw, while Bastila looked at her like she was some broken thing in need of fixing. Ice had seen that look too many times before. Pity. Condescension masked as concern. She wanted no part of it.
"You're just going to run away?" Bastila quickened her pace, stepping in front of her.
Ice let out a harsh breath. "According to you, it's all I know how to do."
"Would you wait?" Bastila's tone was sharper now, tinged with frustration.
"For what?" Ice tried to sidestep her, but Bastila moved with her, blocking her path effortlessly.
"I just want to talk to you."
Ice scowled, trying again, but Bastila mirrored her movements with the precision of a trained duelist. Ice recognized it instantly—it was the same irritating game Bastila used to play when they were kids, back when she was still the bossy older sister who thought she knew best.
"Stop it," Ice snapped.
"Stop what?" Bastila asked, feigning innocence.
"Doing… that."
"Doing what?" Bastila's lips curled slightly in a smirk.
"Being all… Jedi-y. Get out of my way!"
They continued the dance for several more moments, Bastila matching her move for move. It was infuriatingly familiar, a remnant of a time when things had been different—before Bastila had left, before everything had fallen apart. Ice could almost hear their childhood echoes in the space between them: her younger self gritting her teeth in frustration, Bastila laughing just as she was now.
That laugh. It hit her harder than expected. When was the last time she had heard Bastila laugh like that?
Frustration boiled over. Without thinking, Ice lunged, tackling Bastila with enough force to knock them both to the ground.
"What are you doing?" Bastila sputtered, struggling beneath her.
Ice pushed herself up, straddling Bastila's waist, pinning her wrists to the ground above her head. For the first time since they reunited, she grinned—really grinned.
"I'm not a little girl anymore," she said, breathless.
Bastila's eyes narrowed in challenge. With a quick shift of her leg, she hooked Ice's ankle and twisted, sending her sprawling to the side. Before Ice could recover, Bastila flipped them, pressing her forearm against Ice's shoulder, pinning her with just as much ease as she had years ago when they used to spar in their father's study.
"That may be," Bastila said, hair falling loose around her face. "But no matter how much you try to run from it, you will always be my little sister."
Ice went still beneath her. A flicker of something unreadable passed over her face, but before Bastila could place it, a voice interrupted.
"Excuse me."
Both of them turned their heads. A middle-aged Twi'lek stood nearby, smiling kindly at them as if she had just walked in on a harmless sibling scuffle rather than two grown women wrestling in the middle of the enclave courtyard.
Ice and Bastila scrambled apart, brushing off their clothes as if that would erase what had just happened.
"I am sorry to interrupt, but would your name happen to be Bastila?" the Twi'lek asked.
Bastila straightened, clearing her throat as she tried to regain some dignity. "I am Bastila, yes."
Ice rolled her eyes dramatically, mouthing the words in mockery. Bastila shot her a look.
The Twi'lek chuckled. "I thought so. I wasn't certain at first—it's been so many years. But when I saw you two and the way you were bickering, there was no doubt in my mind. You are Helena's daughters."
The words hit like a cold wind. The name they hadn't spoken in years hung between them like an uninvited ghost.
Ice went rigid. Bastila inhaled sharply.
"I take it you know our mother," Bastila said, her voice cautious.
"Oh yes, I have known her for years. She was so proud when you joined the Order! She used to show me Holovids of you both. Such pretty little girls you were."
Ice's hands curled into fists. "Is there something you wanted?"
The Twi'lek glanced at her, clearly picking up on the tension but choosing to ignore it. "I did not mean to intrude. I only wanted to ask about your mother's condition. I do hope that she has improved since last I saw her."
Bastila's breath hitched. "Her condition?"
The way Ice's expression barely flickered told Bastila that, at the very least, she wasn't the only one caught off guard.
The Twi'lek's face fell with regret. "Oh… you didn't know. I am so sorry, I just thought… she was so desperate to find you both when last I saw her."
Bastila's heart clenched. Desperate to find them? That didn't sound like the woman she remembered. The woman she remembered was cold, cutting, dismissive. She had barely acknowledged Bastila leaving for the Jedi Order. And yet…
"Do you know where she is?" Bastila asked quickly. "Did she say anything about our father?"
The Twi'lek shook her head. "No, I'm afraid not. Though I did not see him with her. She was on Tatooine when last we spoke. I imagine she is still there—she was in no condition to travel."
The words sent a ripple through her, one she couldn't quite place. Concern? Or the fear of something she didn't want to face?
The Twi'lek gave them a polite nod, excused herself, and disappeared into the enclave. The silence that followed was deafening.
Bastila turned to Ice. "Well? What do you think we should do?"
"We?" Ice scoffed. "We aren't going to do anything. You can go look for her if you want, just let me know where you both are so I can avoid the planet at all costs."
Bastila's frustration flared. "Are you truly so selfish? What if she really is sick? What if Father—"
"No, it will do him good to see you," Ice cut in, her voice suddenly sharp. "You were always his favorite. His perfect firstborn. When you left, I thought—finally. Finally, he'll see me. Finally, I'll matter." She laughed bitterly. "But no. All he talked about was you. How much he missed you. I could have disappeared into the dunes and I doubt he would have noticed until the dishes started piling up."
Bastila opened her mouth, but the words didn't come.
"Is that why you hate us so much?" she finally asked, quieter this time. "Because you thought we never saw you?"
Ice looked away.
For the first time in years, Bastila remembered the little girl who had crawled into her bed when their parents fought. The one who clung to her sleeve when she left for the Order. The one she had pushed from her mind because it was easier to forget.
Her voice softened. "You have made your feelings about me quite clear. But if Mother is really sick… do you want her to die before you have the chance to say anything? Or Father?"
Ice didn't answer, but the way her shoulders tensed told Bastila everything.
"There's a Star Map on Tatooine," Bastila said carefully. "At the very least, you can save credits by traveling with us. If we don't find them, then you can leave. I won't stop you."
Ice hesitated. "I don't even know what to say to them."
"Neither do I," Bastila admitted.
Ice exhaled, rubbing her face with both hands. "Fine. I'll go with you. But only until Tatooine. If we don't find anything, I'm gone."
Bastila nodded. "Fair enough."