Hi there! Welcome to the new story. :) The usual gobbledegook (notes, disclaimer, etc.) will follow in Chapter One. For now, know that this prologue takes place shortly before my fic, Untouchable.

Lyrics: "So Aware," by John Brown's Body, from Amplify.

Prologue

I'm so aware of your body,

It's blinding my sight when you are near.

So aware of your crying because of a life you can't begin.

So aware the fighting for dreams we lost, that we left in-between;

So aware that I'm starving,

So open your heart and let me in.

The call came well after midnight.

While the rest of the ship slept, clone Captain Stonewall was alone at the helm. He didn't mind the solitude, in part because the fact that he normally shared his Jedi general's bed didn't excuse him from the routine duty, and in part because Kalinda had made it clear she wanted to be alone tonight. Stonewall minded that a little bit, but would not begrudge his Jedi anything if he could help it.

Shadow Squad's vessel, a small freighter that had seen better days, hurtled through the blue veil of hyperspace when the comm began to chirrup. Stonewall glanced at the [PRIORITY URGENT] marker with trepidation before he activated the comm and watched the flickering blue form appear at the console. "General Kenobi?"

The bearded Jedi gave a slight bow. "Stonewall."

The use of his nickname rather than his rank or number clued Stonewall into the fact that this was no professional call, and anxiety squirmed in his gut. Of the few matters that could pull the Jedi Master and High General from his duties, Stonewall knew that one was ensconced in the officer's cabin at the ship's stern.

Stonewall took a breath and schooled himself to patience. His reply lacked formality, but was heavy with intent. "What's wrong?"

Kenobi hesitated. That alone sent off a myriad of warning bells in Stonewall's mind, and he hoped his instinct was wrong. Maybe Kenobi had only comm'd because of some urgent Jedi business that would require Kali's attention. He indicated the doorway behind him. "Should I get General Halcyon, sir? "

"No, Stonewall." Kenobi sighed and shook his head, then looked directly into the clone captain's eyes. "But what I have to say does concern her." He paused again, as if measuring his words. "Have you noticed anything...unusual about Kalinda's behavior lately?"

It was the captain's turn to hesitate. He did not want to speak ill of her, but... "General Halcyon has been a bit...on edge the last week or so."

He fought back a wince at the recent memories of Kali hurting in a way he didn't understand and could do nothing about, and wondered if he'd revealed too much. But General Kenobi was one of Kali's oldest and dearest friends, and if he had an insight about her behavior, Stonewall found he was a little desperate to hear it.

However, there was only so much of that desperation he could reveal. No one outside of this vessel knew about the bond the captain shared with Kalinda, and Stonewall was reluctant to reveal his and Kali's romantic attachment to a leading member of the Jedi Council, old friend of Kali's or not. So he didn't know what else to say.

Kenobi nodded slowly, a sorrowful look on his face. "I thought as much. She contacted me a few days ago with a message for the Council, and I remembered..." His eyes took on a far-away look that Stonewall often associated with Force-users, but it faded quickly as Kenobi faced the captain again. "I debated sharing what I'm about to, because it is her business and not either of ours. However, I decided you would be able to better serve her if you had this knowledge."

Anxiety tore at Stonewall's gut again, but he worked to keep his expression neutral. "I would be grateful for any information that will help me assist General Halcyon."

"Good to hear. I'm glad she has you." Kenobi offered a kind but small smile, which faded almost at once. "Has Kali ever mentioned a Jedi by the name of Jonas Ki?"

Stonewall nodded. "He was her first master."

The Jedi studied him a long moment, his forehead creased as if with uncertainty, which led Stonewall to wonder if he'd made a mistake by revealing he knew this much about Kali. But surely there was no harm in this knowledge? Jedi were allowed to discuss their old masters, right? By Kali's account, Knight Ki had been a patient and kind master; what reason would Kenobi have to feel uncertain about relating this information?

"Today is the twentieth anniversary of his death," Kenobi said quietly. "It is always a difficult time for her, but I fear..." He sighed again. "I fear this one will hit her particularly hard. I fear it already has."

"I think you're right, sir," Stonewall replied with a sigh of his own. "She's...not been herself. I only wish I could do something to help her."

Kenobi nodded once. "I've tried, in the past. But some wounds – even old ones – will never heal completely. The best thing you can do is let her grieve in her own way, in her own time. She'll come out of it soon. She always does."

Stonewall nodded, but the words struck him as wrong. Not unkind or unfair, because by all accounts Jedi were not supposed to grieve at all, but it still felt wrong to let Kali suffer alone. Which was what Kenobi was suggesting, at least as far as he could tell.

But it would do little good to argue with the Jedi, for many reasons, so the captain ensured that his reply was professional. "Thank you for the information, General."

Kenobi signed off. Stonewall leaned forward, resting his elbows on the console and running his hands through his close-cropped hair as he debated his next move. She'd expressly told him she wanted to be alone, and he wanted to honor that request, but this new information...

Kali was grieving. It was clear to him now, and if she was simply his CO and nothing more, he would have left her to her grief. But there was more between them, so much more. As a soldier, he knew when to leave well enough alone and focus on the mission. But as a man, he could not stand idly by while the woman he loved wept herself to sleep alone in a dark room.

A glance at the instrument panel told him they were ahead of schedule, so he decided to forgo helm duty for the time being. He set the autopilot, then slipped out of the cockpit and made his way through the silent ship's corridors. He paused beside the cabin that held his men, where he knew an empty bunk waited for him, and listened for a moment to ensure all was well; exhales, sighs and a few intermittent snores revealed that it was.

The cabin he normally shared with Kali was tucked within the Wayfarer's stern. It was small and often cluttered with her belongings, but had the luxury of a bed that was larger than anything Stonewall had ever slept upon in his admittedly short life. He pressed the lock-panel and slipped inside. Kali sat at the center of the bed, hunched over a datapad, her face illuminated by the screen.

Not until he crossed the threshold did she glance up. "What are you doing here?"

As his eyes adjusted to the darkness, Stonewall hesitated, her sharp tone making him uncertain of how his concern would be met. He saw her rub at her eyes and took in her slumped posture, like she was curling in on herself, and a little more of his resolve fell away. She'd been so adamant before about being alone...maybe Kenobi had been right.

"How are you?" he asked at last.

Through the darkness, he watched her sit up and straighten her shoulders. To an outsider, she would be the picture of a proper Jedi. Her words trembled, though, and betrayed her. "I'm fine."

"No," he stepped closer, "you're not."

Kali's voice cooled. "If I say I'm fine, then I'm fine. I told you I wanted to be alone. What do you want?"

Ignoring the pang he felt at her words, Stonewall sat at the bed's edge and twisted around to regard her. Bathed in the datapad's glow as she was, it was obvious she'd been crying. Red-rimmed eyes looked back at him steadily, but she sniffed once despite herself.

"General Kenobi just comm'd," he said.

The dark-haired woman glanced down at her datapad. "And?"

"He was worried about you."

Now she gave a small shake of her head, which caused her unbound hair to sway. "He does that a lot."

In her grip, the 'pad trembled. Stonewall eased a little closer, shifting so that he was fully seated on the bed, though he did not touch her. She did not tense, nor turn away from him this time, which he took as a good sign. "He told me why he was worried."

She glanced up at him, brows knitted. "He told you...?"

"Your first master," Stonewall said. "It's the twentieth anniversary of his death. Right?"

Kali stared at him a long, long moment, then shook her head. "No, Stonewall."

Well, this was unexpected. Stonewall frowned and tried to put his thoughts in order. He knew he'd not heard her wrong, and he doubted Kenobi had outright lied to him, but then what was the truth of the matter?

But before he could ask, Kali sighed, set the 'pad screen-side down in her lap, and looked at him again. "Jonas wasn't just my Master, Stonewall. He was," she swallowed and looked away, into the shadows of the cabin, "he was my dad."

"Your..." Stonewall gaped at her a moment before recovering his senses. Somewhat. "Kriffing hell."

To his shock, Kali let out a chuckle, though it was low and dark and filled with sorrow. "That about sums it up." She was silent a moment longer, then looked down at the 'pad. Her next words were blurred and shaking. "He died in my arms. I was sixteen. I can't believe it's been two decades; it feels like it only happened yesterday."

There was no room for hesitation now. Stonewall shifted closer and wrapped his arms around her, holding her close to his chest. He only wore his off-duty fatigues, so thankfully he could offer her warm skin, soft fabric and a steadfast shoulder. She resisted him for a heartbeat before relaxing into his embrace as her body started to tremble.

He said nothing as she cried. What was there to say? He had no family to miss, not like this anyway. There were brothers, of course, but losing them – while painful – was commonplace among clones. They were soldiers in wartime, and brothers died all the time. The ones who were left grieved and moved on, while keeping their memories alive in their hearts. It was the way of his world.

But even though he could not directly relate, he understood there was a strong bond between parents and children. And he knew something of love, too. He knew it was love that held Kali captive in her grief; love lost and shaped into sorrow over the long span of years.

Perhaps, though, it was love that could offer some relief.

He kissed the top of her head and rubbed her arms and trembling back as she buried her face in his chest. "I'm sorry, Kali," he murmured in her ear. "I'm so sorry."

Kali wept. It felt like he held her for hours, though the reality was probably closer to a single hour. But all that mattered was that she quieted at last and looked up at him. Her eyes, nose, and cheeks were pink and blotted with tears, and her hair was mussed beyond all recognition.

"It still hurts," she whispered. "Why hasn't it stopped hurting yet?"

"I don't know." He smoothed back a strand of her hair that had stuck to her damp cheek. "I suppose some wounds never really heal; they just scab over."

Kali sniffed and leaned into him again, wrapping her arms around his torso and embracing him for all she was worth. Stonewall understood that she often thought him solid, even indestructible, and although he knew better, he thought that now she needed something to hold on to more than she needed to be strong on her own.

In all the times they'd been intimate, never had she seemed less of a Jedi than she did now. But never had she been more real.

"Kali?"

Her reply was small in the darkness. "Yes?"

"What was he like?"

She inhaled deeply and met his eyes. Her expression was distant again, but there was a softness to its edges that made Stonewall think she was remembering, and that it was not all in sorrow. "He was..." A slow, half-smile came to her face. "Kind," she said at last. "Compassionate. The perfect Jedi, by all accounts. Except he didn't care for meditating, and he had this one really, really big attachment."

Hoping to encourage her, Stonewall smiled back fully. "He sounds like a good man."

Kali shifted closer, curling her legs up and resting her head on his shoulder as she relaxed into his chest. "It's not very Jedi-like of me, but I miss him every day. There are times when I see something he'd think was interesting, or hear a song he'd love, and I want to tell him...then I remember." There was a frown in her voice. "I don't know if it should be that way. I don't think so."

"I guess you can't exactly ask the Council," Stonewall agreed.

He'd not been joking, but she startled him with a light chuckle. Second one so far; he decided to thank Kenobi later on, even though he'd not exactly followed orders.

Kali was quiet for a moment, then leaned up and pulled away from Stonewall. He lamented her absence briefly, but watched with interest as she tugged up the leg of her sleep pants, revealing an ugly, rounded scar on her left knee.

"I've told you how I got this, right?" she asked.

Stonewall ran his fingertips over the familiar knot of skin, wide and thick as his thumb. On her slender knee, it took up far too much room. "On a mission when..." He took a breath and looked at her with new eyes. "When you were sixteen. When your first master was killed."

Kali nodded. "It was bad. It still is, some days. I should have gotten a prosthetic knee."

The scar, or what it represented, was the reason Kalinda Halcyon was not on the front lines with other Jedi, leading clone battalions while cutting down rows of Seppie clankers. The old injury was a constant source of trouble. If her knee was exerted overmuch it would ache, enough so that she had to rest far more than other Jedi, enough so that Stonewall had spent many hours massaging the area in an attempt to ease what pain he could. She walked with a limp. It was faint, but visible, and it was certainly enough to advertise the fact that she was in less than one-hundred-percent physical condition.

But who gave a kriff about a bum knee, when the woman attached to it was so extraordinary?

He'd never pushed her to reveal the details of her injury. Among clones, those who'd been wounded enough to return to the field bore their scars proudly, for they were badges of survival. However, no clone who was hurt like Kali had been would have been sent back to fight. A wound that left such a deep, abiding scar and persistent limp would have equated to a one-way trip back to Kamino.

Now, though, he thought he had tacit permission to ask, so he held her dark eyes with his own. "Why didn't you get a prosthetic?"

Kali was silent, and he wondered if he'd pushed too far this time. Along with wry humor, compassion, and an easy-going nature, there was a darkness within Kalinda Halcyon. Despite her tendency to recoil from them, the shadows clung to her. He'd seen them in her eyes when she was angry, or frightened, or lost.

He saw them now.

Just as Stonewall was about to change the subject, Kali sighed and rubbed at the scar again. "It's stupid."

"Tell me anyway?"

A beat passed, then she picked up the datapad, activated the screen, and presented it to him without a further word. Stonewall accepted the 'pad and his heart constricted when he saw the image.

Two Jedi stood before a marbled fountain. The first was a man probably in his forties, slightly taller than a clone, slender, with vivid blue eyes and short hair so blonde it was nearly white. A familiar wry smile touched the edges of his lips. He stood proudly, with one arm around the shoulders of the other Jedi, a Padawan judging from the braid hanging next to her chin. Kali. Young...younger than Stonewall had ever seen in any of the old pics she'd shown him. Her face was rounder, more childlike, and her body was not as curved as it was now, but the dark eyes that looked back at the clone captain were purely Kali. Her smile was toothy and she stood straight and tall.

Each wore a lightsaber, but only one hilt was familiar. In the picture, it hung at Jonas Ki's belt, though Stonewall knew now it lay with Kali's belongings, on the floor of her side of the bed they shared.

"I didn't want a prosthetic knee because...even though my real knee was ruined, it was the only thing I had left of my father."

She met Stonewall's gaze, and he caught a glimpse of the girl she used to be behind the eyes of the woman she was, then her gaze dropped and her hands trembled over the scar. "I couldn't give it up because I couldn't let him go. This stupid, busted knee is all I have left of him."

It took Stonewall a moment to find his voice. "The lightsaber..."

"Is a weapon, a tool, a possession." Kali's voice sharpened again, but Stonewall got the sense she wasn't upset with him. "It could be lost or taken away from me. And honestly, I was never that great with it. But this," she slammed her palm on her knee, startling him, "this is mine. This is a part of me. Forever."

Kali swiped at her eyes and sighed again. "Kriff, that's idiotic. I'm a terrible Jedi."

"That's not true."

"Well, you don't know many of us," she said, sitting up a little and regarding him with some of her old wry humor.

Stonewall shook his head. "I know enough. But it doesn't matter, because you're not just a Jedi, Kali. You're a woman. You're a person, an amazing one, and I..."

He bit off the next words, because they would be too much right now. This was not a time for something new; this was a time to attend to old wounds. So he touched her jaw, skimming his fingertips over her smooth skin before twining them in the dark tangle of her hair. "I count myself lucky to know you, and even luckier to be here now."

"You don't have the monopoly on luck," she said, lifting a brow at him even as she leaned into his touch.

Stonewall chuckled. "That's debatable."

"Insubordinate." Kali clucked her tongue and gave him a teasing look that made his heart lift. "I should court-martial you."

"Go for it, General," Stonewall replied lightly, arching his brow.

The corners of her mouth curled upward with amusement, but it was not a true smile. He figured she would still wrestle with her sorrow, but he didn't want to leave her alone, not now. Perhaps he could have woken up one of his men and had them fly the Wayfarer while he stayed here with her, but it was still technically his turn at the helm, and it didn't sit right with Stonewall to use his relationship with Kali – or his place as captain – to take such prerogatives.

He didn't vocalize any of this to the dark-haired Jedi, because she knew. Even without a word, she knew him, understood him in a way no one else ever had. He only hoped he could return the favor one day, even if only a little bit. There was so much he was helpless against, after all.

Rather than dwell on the darkness, he thumbed in the direction of the cockpit. "It's lonely up there. If you're not going to sleep any time soon, I could use some company."

Kali considered, then nodded. Some of the blotchiness had faded from her face, though it was still obvious she'd been crying. Her knee still rested between them, and Stonewall placed his hand over the scar. He met her eyes, silently wishing he could say something that would make everything right, but the words didn't come.

Then she gave him a true smile, and there was no better sight.

"Come on," she said, getting to her feet and offering him her hand. "We've got a long journey ahead of us."

Stonewall rose as well, and laced their fingers together. "Let's go."

A/N: Look for a new chapter every other Friday. Please "follow" me or the fic to receive future updates, and please leave a review if you are so inclined. :) Thanks for reading!