KOTOR: TSL is owned by LucasArts and Obsidian, not me. I'm not making any money out of this. This story will be completed in two parts. Feedback is appreciated. -D

---

Patience. Calm. Be mindful of your thoughts. Do not allow yourself to be angry at Master Vrook for saddling you with one of the most precocious and noisy padawans it has ever been your misfortune to teach.

Atris shook her head and tried to clear her thoughts. What's done is done, and Vrook presumably had his reasons for insisting that she be the one to try and instill some scholarly virtues into the boy.

She hadn't seen Daric for over a year now, but she remembered him. He always had lots of friends, and it was obvious when he attended her lectures on history that he'd much rather have been talking to them that learning about the exploits of dead Jedi. She'd tried to talk to him about it, and he'd flash her that brilliant smile and apologize, only to do the exact same thing next lesson.

It was somewhat of a disappointment to her, as he was obviously pretty bright. Maybe she could do better this time, she thought, but she doubted it. If anything it would probably be worse. Without the other students to distract him he would likely be even more resentful about being cooped up in the Hall of Records.

He was here. He greeted her respectfully, if not enthusiastically, and Atris wondered just what he'd done to be in this position. Atris noted that he'd gotten even taller, and he was fast growing out of his adolescent awkwardness. He'd be around eighteen, she supposed.

Atris showed him his working space in a corner in the hall of records.
"It's a shame Master Vrook didn't give me any specific instructions with regards to your training." She was irritated at herself for allowing some of her annoyance to cloud her words, but really, how was she going to get any research done with him here?
"Maybe you're supposed to learn something as well," he said innocently, looking at her from under the dark hair that fell into his eyes.
Atris's lips tightened in anger, "How dare you be so presumptuous?"
"It just seems the kind of thing Vrook would do," he backpedaled hopefully.
"So, you're going to cast aspersions on an absent master to try and get out of trouble are you?"
He stayed silent; presumably realizing anything he said would make the situation worse. Yet again Atris forced herself to calm down. He seemed to have a knack for saying just the right thing to annoy her, and she had less power to intimidate him than she used to. He looked a little uncomfortable under her scrutiny, but not worried in the least.
"All right, Daric. Until we decide what you should do with your time here you can make yourself useful and catalogue these datapads."
"Yes, Master Atris." With a resigned nod he got to work.

The first week passed much as Atris feared it would. Daric worked hard but he never lost the resentful look in his brown eyes. Their routine consisted of a stilted 'good morning' and then a careful avoidance of each other for the rest of the day. It was wearing, to say the least, and Atris despaired of getting any real work done.

"We're polar opposites. He's been pretty quiet, but you can see he'd rather be somewhere else all the time. He'll never be a scholar." Atris and Vash sat in one of the many gardens after a meeting of the Jedi Council.
"Maybe you should cut him some slack," Vash suggested. "This isn't supposed to be a punishment- for either of you."
"So he was right? This is for my benefit as well?"
"We can all benefit from time spent with others. In your case I think some of the other masters were a bit worried that you spend too much time closeted up in the Hall of Records."
"I don't think inflicting Daric Sandalio on me is the best way to change my mind."
"Atris-"
"I know, I suppose I should try and be a bit more lenient. The atmosphere in there is getting rather oppressive."
"Good luck."

"Daric." Atris swept into the room determinedly.
"Master Atris?" He looked up from his work with a what-have-I-done-now expression on his face.
"I think…perhaps we got started on the wrong foot. This isn't supposed to be a punishment," she echoed Vash's words.
He raised an eyebrow, "So, who told you?"
She bit back an irritated retort. "Daric, I admit, I viewed this situation a little unjustly, but you have to do your bit as well."
"All right." He nodded. He still looked a bit skeptical.
"Well, for a start you can stop cataloguing. And well…what do you think would be the best use of your time?"
"Training with Master Kavar," he answered.
"I see," she said shortly. "Perhaps it is a bit much to expect you'd be cooperative after a week in here. Maybe you should take a break. I'll be in my rooms if you think of a more practical answer to my question."

Atris turned and began collecting up items from her desk. She heard Daric turn to leave but when she turned to follow him out she saw he was standing in the doorway with a strange little smile.
"I'm not five years old; you don't need to give me breaks."
"You could have fooled me," she replied coolly.
He laughed and ran his fingers through his hair, "All right, you win."
"So we can discuss things sensibly now?" Atris couldn't help but feel pride as she saw new respect in his brown eyes.
He shrugged, "Okay. I don't really have any ideas though."

She suggested they go to the gardens and he readily agreed. To her relief there weren't any other students there. She knew she had trouble building rapport with her students, and didn't want to jeopardize the fragile connection she had with this one. Daric was much more at ease once they got outside and he flopped down on the grass.

Atris sat on a bench nearby and watched the padawan as he pulled a blade of grass in half lengthways.
"You have no ideas at all?" she asked.
"No," he looked up at her, "I never found all that stuff very interesting. I don't want to be a consular; they're the ones who have to worry about that stuff."
"You'd make a good consular. Your ability to bond with others would make you a formidable diplomat. Still, it's not only the consular who has to worry about history. We can all learn from the mistakes of the past. When we learn of others who fell to the dark side we can guard ourselves against the same fate."
He suddenly sat up and listened more attentively, the grass stem forgotten. "But has learning history really prevented anyone turning to the dark side? The here and now is so much more important and real; history is just what you find on datapads, and how is that different from a holovid?"
He's given this some serious thought, she realized, and now he's given me something to think about.
"I know it's difficult to believe, after spending many years sheltered in the academy, but the dark side is not an easy thing to even recognize, let alone guard against. No one sets out to become evil, the greatest of intentions can lead down the dark path, and we need all the help we can get."
He still looked skeptical. Atris took a deep breath and continued as she began to warm up to her subject.
"History doesn't just have to be confined to datapads. History can be as recent as the stories you hear from you masters, and history leaves its mark on the Force itself. The past is who and what we are, and we need to understand it to understand ourselves. Take Master Kavar's training for instance. You can learn the technique, but can you really understand it until you know its history, its origins?"
"You can practice it in the real world."
"Would it make a difference to you if I told you that some of the fighting styles people, not just Jedi, use today originated with the Sith?"
His eyes widened, "Well, yeah, I guess it would. Which styles?" he asked eagerly.
Atris shook her head, "There are Sith fighting styles, but they guarded their knowledge with a paranoid zeal- that is the way of the Sith. If they are truly the origin of any current techniques that piece of history has been lost."
"But you said-"
"Did I?"
He frowned and thought back over her words, "No, I guess you didn't."

Atris looked around; it came as a bit of a shock to see that the sun was already setting. Daric looked up thoughtfully at the first few stars that were winking in the dusk and Atris watched him for a few moments.
"I should probably let you go and have dinner with the other students. I believe this afternoon has been most instructive. I'll see you tomorrow, Daric."
"Yes, Master Atris." He nodded respectfully and dashed off, presumably realizing just how hungry he was.

The next morning Atris worked out a new routine. She seemed to have sparked Daric's interest in the origins of fighting styles, and she decided there were worse topics to do research projects on. Most of the Jedi Masters couched their treatises on fighting in an abstruse and philosophical manner, and Atris supposed he'd pick up some of their spiritual ideas by osmosis if nothing else.

So, in the mornings Daric would sit at one of the study tables and read and take notes, and in the afternoons he'd go and see Master Kavar and train. Occasionally Atris would put her research aside and walk with him to the gardens. He liked hearing her talk about history, although she wasn't sure how well she was convincing him of its importance.

She grew used to his presence. She found herself smiling when she looked over and saw him absorbed in his studies, his face lit by the glow of the datapads. What the other Masters had told her of him was true, she reflected, he formed bonds with amazing ease. Sometimes, she knew, he spent the afternoon with his friends rather than Kavar, although she had heard him refer to the Master as a friend more than once. She found herself wondering what he thought of her.

"You'll be a Jedi Knight soon," Atris remarked one afternoon as they sat in the Hall of a Thousand Fountains.
Daric ran his tanned fingers through the water as he gazed at the fish that floated lazily in the fountain, just out of reach, "I know. It's a little hard to believe. I'm sure I'll pass all my tests though."
"I'm sure you will. Had you given any thought as to what you'll do afterwards?"
"I want to be a Jedi sentinel."
Atris nodded, this didn't surprise her. Despite his diligent training Master Kavar had told her that he did much better when he used a combination of Force powers and melee attacks.
"That wasn't quite what I meant though. Have you given any thought as to what you'll do when you leave the academy?"
"Yes, but it hasn't helped," he admitted. "I don't really know what's out there, but I want to make a difference. I want to make things better."
"An admirable goal. Just don't try and take on all the troubles in the galaxy at once."
"That's all?" he asked.
"What do you mean?"
"I wondered if you had a specific reason for bringing the topic up."
Am I that easy to read? Atris wondered. I suppose it shouldn't surprise me, he always knew how to get under my skin before; this is no different really. Just as long as he didn't find out anything she didn't want him to know.
"Well, yes. I just wanted to make a suggestion to you. Have you ever considered becoming a teacher?"
"A Master like you?"
"I think you'd be very good at it. Master Kavar says you work well when you spar with the younger students. Your ability to connect with people; you're far better at it that I'll ever be," she admitted.
"You're not that bad. I mean, pretty much everyone can remember the last ten masters of the academy and the year when-"
"Teaching is much more than that and you know it."
"You really care about history, Atris. I can see that. When you talk about it it's so obvious."
"When I'm talking to you maybe," she pointed out. "I don't recall you being so fascinated during my classes. It's you that brings out the best in me- in people," she finished hurriedly, a faint blush spreading across her cheeks.
To her relief, it appeared Daric hadn't noticed, "But teaching involves so much responsibility." He leaned back until he could look at her upside down, "Or are you going to tell me I'm responsible as well, and devilishly handsome to boot."
She couldn't suppress a smile, "I didn't mean immediately. You should go out and see the galaxy a bit first. I haven't seen as much as I'd have liked to. Responsibility will come in time, or it won't, and then you won't become a teacher. It's just a suggestion."
"Hmmm," he straightened and looked back at the fountain. "I'll bear it in mind." He was silent for a few moments and then, "So…do you think I'm handsome?"
"Wouldn't you be better off asking one of your peers?"
"Oh them," he waved his hand dismissively, "I already know they think I'm handsome."
"I take it back," she replied, "You'd make a terrible teacher. You can't be serious for more than five minutes at a stretch."
He laughed and got to his feet, "I need to talk to Master Vash about the exams."
"All right then, ask her if she thinks you're handsome. I'll see you tomorrow."

It wasn't until after his footsteps had faded that Atris realized how carefully she was dodging his question. This revelation shook her as she realized just how close they were becoming. He was dropping the 'Master' before her name more and more often, and she didn't mind. It was impossible and ridiculous. Especially when she thought back to the warnings she occasionally threw Kavar's way about the girls who always arrived early to his classes.

He was young; it was only to be expected that he could get…confused about relationships. But she was old, older than enough to know better. He was forbidden on so many levels, and she had to admit she found it entrancing. The first time he'd laughed in her presence, the way he'd run his fingernail against his bottom lip when he was reading, the fire and passion in his form when he was sparring- I can't believe it, I'm stalking my own student! Atris thought rather hysterically.

Face crimson with embarrassment she retreated to her rooms for the rest of the day, trying to meditate away the question that echoed in her head.

Do you think I'm handsome? Indescribably so.