Drenched
by shike77
Spoilers: I think so. I'm pretty sure they're somewhere in there.
POV: Atton
Genre: Angst. Or something. Continue? Maybe. If it needs more, I'll take it farther. I don't think so right now.
Production Songs: 'Boulevard of Broken Dreams' and 'Wake me up When September Ends' by Green Day.
Notes: Uh… I don't know. For all of you that have played and finished KOTOR II… Well, you'd probably understand why I wrote this. ::throws a rock at the lack of closure:: I started writing it after Atton's Past thing came up. ::cough:: The entire point of this was, originally, to show you all how much I hate Disciple (pansy). I think it evolved beyond that after I wrapped the game, though (at 2:00 in the morning).
This is more about Saer than Atton, sadly enough. As much as I've been writing her, I don't feel like I've been giving her character the justice it deserves. I decided to give the two of them a comfortable standing with each other. Atton thinks he understands her (heh, you wish), and then… well, you'll see.
This takes place about… say, Dantooine was done first, then the first half of Onderron, and now we're off to Nar Shadda. And I apologize in advance for the utter butchery of Disciple's character. I realize that he wouldn't act like that, but… well, then things wouldn't be interesting. ::malicious grin::
"Okay, Saer, I need to ask you something."
The blonde woman grunted at him in reply, placing a Pazaak card on the floor. A 19—pretty close, but not good enough…
Atton pulled a card off the top of the deck and placed it next to the ones on his side of the floor. The Ebon Hawk had no Pazaak tables, not suprisingly, and Atton had to be nearby the console in case of some major emergency or other, so if they wanted to play Pazaak to pass the time, they had to do it on the floor in the cockpit. Which they usually did—Saer rarely had anything to do around the ship when she wasn't helping Bao Dur repair something or working on that busted HK unit. She tended to avoid the old hag and Disciple like the plague, but was prone to finding ways to help everyone else out whenever she could. And as such it was no small victory (over Disciple, certainly) that she chose to spend a good deal of time holed up in the cockpit paying Pazaak with him. He placed a – 5 on the floor, then gathered the cards to shuffle the deck.
"It's not that I'm complaining, or anything…" he shrugged, placing the deck on the floor, "because I just love the time we spend together. Quality, friendship-building time, it is."
Her only response was to give him that, 'get-to-the-point-or-I'll-kill-you' look she'd perfected ages ago. He grinned sheepishly as she drew a card from the deck and placed it on the floor, then signaled for him to go. He drew a card and placed it on the floor. She was at eight, he was at one.
"… And, well, being in a room with you and the door closed might, coincidentally, be yet another personal fantasy of mine, if even a little incomplete…"
She gave him that look again as she drew another card and placed it on the floor.
"… But I have to ask. Why have we been sitting here for three hours playing Pazaak with the door closed? Because if my manly charm's finally won through to you, then I think you should just tell me."
When she didn't say anything, he continued on, thinking she was way too glum for her own good. She looked unsettled—far too uncomfortable, and not even completely there. He'd practically let her win six matches in a row and she hadn't even noticed. "I mean, I know it's difficult for you Jedi women to learn to accept these things—"
"It's Disciple."
Atton's mood soured. What's that good for nothing son of a viper kinrath done now?
As if she'd caught that, she sighed. "No, he hasn't done anything. Not yet, anyway. He's just…"
An ass? Trying too hard? Obvious? Sticking his nose where it doesn't belong?
She shook her head. Like she was reading his mind or something. "I didn't think his… 'history' involving my brief appearance would have been so bad, when he told me about it…"
She'd told him about that while she was helping him examine the Ebon Hawk after the attack near Onderron for damage. She had apparently trained Disciple for a brief period of time, among a group of other Jedi wannabe's, before heading off to the war—and, after her exile, the idiot had left the Order as well. At that revelation, his attitude towards the man had soured a considerable amount. He hated to feel overly protective of Saer—you didn't have to be a genius to see that she didn't need it—but he almost felt like Disciple was walking in on his turf.
She sighed, shaking her head as she drew a card and placed it with barely a glance at it. She was at eighteen. "Unfortunately, it's worse than I thought. Damn, Atton, I think he's becoming obsessed with me. Normally, I'd be able to ignore it, but he's harassing T3 so he can constantly see the recording of my trial, Bao Dur tells me that he's haunting the security room, watching me over the cameras—and recording that, for when I'm not on the ship!" She shook her head, watching Atton draw a card. He was at five.
"Just boot him off the ship," Atton replied, watching her draw a one. She placed her hand in the 'stand' position as he continued. "He doesn't really do anything for us, anyway—well, except act all high and mighty. Y'know, I told him you don't fall for the hero act-"
"When?" she interrupted, frowning as he drew another card. "I don't remember being part of that conversation."
… Right. He hadn't told her about that. Mainly because he'd practically threatened Disciple, telling him to back off. Hell, the man deserved it. It made little sense, however; Saer had shown little interest in either of them beyond casual friendship, so why was he so worried about Disciple winning her over? And why did he feel so protective of a person who had saved his ass more times than he could count?
"Uh, yeah, that was on Dxun. Right after you all came back from the Mandalorian camp. You were taking about three hours in the shower at that point in time."
Saer winced. "The bathroom cameras are encoded, right?"
"Trust me, the trash compactor changes the codes daily."
She looked about to express relief, for a moment, but stopped. A second later she sighed, running a hand through her hair—it wasn't forced into a messy braid, a sure sign that the entire Hutt race was soon to renounce their evil ways and start donating mass amounts of credits to their local charity.
"I am not going to ask how you found that out. Ever."
Atton grinned sheepishly. "Hey, once a guy sees a woman half-naked, he's just dying to see the rest of her." Drawing a card and placing it, he added slyly, "Did you know that you have sexy hips?"
The look she sent his way was priceless. "This coming from the one about to lose something in between the legs if he keeps this up."
Atton scowled at her playfully, then glanced over his cards. He was at 13… After a quick glance at his hand to see if anything helped, he drew again. Wound up with a 23. No way he could pull himself out of that one and still win. He gathered the cards and shuffled them again as she picked up her hand.
"Anyway," he continued, placing the deck on the floor, "Like I said, just kick him out if he's too much. What does he do, anyway? Sits around and makes theories about what's attacking us all day. Not the most useful of people to have around."
Saer shook her head at him, some shorter strands of her hair slipping past her ear. She pushed it back, irritably, but it fell hopelessly back into place again. She sent it a glare, then drew a card. She had a 10.
"I don't think that's such a good idea, Atton," she replied, a melancholy edge to her voice—barely even there, but Atton knew her well enough to find it. He frowned, drawing a card and placing it on the floor without even looking at it.
"What do you mean?"
She stiffened up a little, the movement hardly visible. Anyone else might have thought it a trick of the eyes, but Atton had spent entire conversations and games of Pazaak just learning how to read this particular exiled Jedi, and he knew that there was something there she didn't want him to find out.
"Nothing," she replied. The tone seemed even and smooth, but it was a tad too hastily spoken for Saer. In other words, his suspicions were confirmed. He narrowed his eyes, slightly, then looked at his card. He was at nine. Saer drew another. She was at sixteen.
Atton hesitated. He didn't want to press, but… in reality, he knew so little about her. He could read her, yes. Tell when she was having doubts, or when she wasn't feeling entirely sound. But he didn't know why she was so stubborn. So hard to get close to, so removed from the events around her. He had no doubt in her ability to persevere until their mission—whatever it turned out it be, in the end—was complete. Physically, there was no threat to her. She might look sleek and feminine, but there was a sense of a crouched feline about her, with the keen eyes of a bird of prey. And that was only when she was at rest.
He drew a card, trying to look like he wasn't considering pressuring her to answer further. He placed it with no small amount of resignation—he barely even recognized his total of 18—as he mulled his thoughts over some more. It had taken some time to get her to relax around him. To get her to shake off the poise of someone waiting for a fight and to just let her body sit however it was comfortable.
And then Disciple had waltzed on in and ruined everything.
"I still think we should get rid of him when we hit Nar Shadda," Atton grumbled, watching her draw a card. "We could say the Hutts got to him. Or the Exchange. You know how they are. Hell, maybe he… could mysteriously pick up a gambling debt?"
Saer smirked a little at that, and Atton's mood immediately improved. Good, she wasn't going to be upset forever. She'd been worrying him for a moment.
She shook her head and sighed, then. She brushed her hair out of her face again, looking up at Atton sadly.
"I have seen the purest warriors fall, Atton. And fall far."
He drew a 6, then placed a –4 on the floor, barely even thinking about it. He looked back up at Saer, the expression on her face disturbing him, slightly. So distant, so… withdrawn. What was normally a spark of well-hidden self-loathing burned in her eyes, then, so fiercely that Atton almost looked away. Those eyes of red-rimmed blue… What hid behind them?
What happened to you? Was it Malachor that made you like this?
"They fell for me, Atton. And because I wanted nothing to do with them, they fell in every sense of the word."
She gathered her cards, stood, and left the room. Atton sat there for a long time before he gathered the cards and put them away.