Her blue-gray eyes are cold like steel and her mouth a pretty scowl as she glares at me, arms crossed over her chest while a storm gathers on her pale face.

"You wouldn't dare go against the Council's wishes. You're a fool to even consider-"

"I'd rather be a fool than a coward," I retort arrogantly, clenching my fists. I glance around to find Alek, but I've lost him in the midst of the chattering crowd. "I'd rather fight for those we are sworn to protect than cower-"

"You? I've never seen you protect anyone but yourself," her eyebrows raise coolly and I my face flushes when I notice nearby padawans staring on in vague interest. "You'd get yourself killed before you even set foot-"

"Enough," Master Vrook intervenes, stalking up to us and ending the dispute with nothing more than a word and a superior swish of his robes. "I'll not have my padawan mixed up in this foolishness."

"Yes, Master," she bows her head for a moment before excusing herself with nothing more than an icy glare at me.

"The rest of you- back to your lessons," he commands at the audience that's left over from Alek's impassioned speech. "And you," he frowns at me with narrowed eyes, his voice gravelly and full of distaste. I straighten the front of my robes before squaring my shoulders and matching his scowl. "Your master may refuse to properly discipline you, but I'll be taking this directly to Master Vandar. I'll make sure your influence spreads no further."

I press my lips together firmly, and he leaves before a landslide of un-Jedi-like words spill from my mouth.

After speaking with Alek, I avoid the evening meal and head to my cell in the padawan dormitory to prepare my bags.

In the midst of my packing, I do not notice the only other presence in the room until he's an arms length away.

"Leaving so soon?" Master Kavar asks from the doorway, causing me to jump slightly.

"How did you know?" I reply, turning back to my bag as if his knowledge doesn't unsettle me.

"I know more than you give me credit for," he replies, lips pressed into a firm, disapproving line. "For instance, I understand you've been baiting Master Vrook's padawan into argument again."

"Bastila started it," I insist childishly, dismissing his so-called omniscience. Vrook has never bothered to be anything but vocal about my shortcomings and mine and Bastila's disputes are hardly academy secrets at this point.

"I also know you plan on meeting Alek past the fields by the Matale residence in the middle of the night, and I know how many of your fellow padawans plan to join you on the transport he's secured." This gives me pause and I stop packing to face him. His expression is neutral but leaning towards disappointment when I meet his eyes. "I know that if you leave tonight, there is no turning back. You will never be able to return to this place as the same person. You would abandon a prospective student as well. If you all left for the wars, who would there be to train the younglings when they are ready?"

"You left me to fight," I argue, a bitter tone on my lips that I didn't know was festering in my mouth until now.

"I left with the Council's permission. And then I returned," he corrects calmly. His demeanor begins to irritate me in ways I can't even begin to describe. His hands are loosely clasped behind his back as he takes a step closer. I notice the faint lines dented into his skin around his eyes and mouth in this light, aging him beyond his years. "And I taught you better than this. Meetra... you know Vima taught you better than this."

"Master Vima is gone," I dully remind him, though it hurts to say so out loud. I turn away from his gaze to blink the sudden and unwanted wetness from my eyes.

"And the Order has been lessened by her death. As it would be by yours." I concentrate on my folded clothes in front of me and try to ignore the effects his closeness is having on our bond.

"You don't think I'm ready," I accuse, swallowing the harsh realization through the lump in my throat. "I thought you out of everyone would understand." I only now realize I shouldn't have expected that of him. For how close I believed we were, for how much I needed him to fill the painful hole Vima's death left in me, I shouldn't have expected anything of him.

"You're young, Meetra. You still have much to learn-" he begins, placing a large hand on my shoulder. At his proximity, he doesn't need to say anything for me to understand his concern. The gesture is patronizingly platonic and I suddenly feel incredibly foolish and miniscule.

Vima always warned me to be careful with my gifts, that if I didn't learn to control myself, I could hurt anyone close to me.

His hand on my shoulder starts to feel more like a weight, dragging me down with reminders of how I let myself care so much.

Fear leads to anger, and anger leads to the Dark side, padawan, his voice intones in my head. I flinch at the intrusion.

"I am not your Padawan. And you are no longer my Master," I snap angrily, wrenching away from his touch and backing away as far as the small room will allow.

As soon as his hand leaves my arm, I feel something in the Force has changed. I stumble away from him, and he stares back at me with bewilderment reflected in his light blue eyes. I feel emptier and my breathing comes rapidly while he approaches me with anxious concern but his presence feels different than it did just a minute ago. I stare up at him blankly, searching for answers that will never come.

"Meetra," he begins urgently, and I can't place the anxiety in his tone through the headache gathering in my temples. "How-"

"General?" I jump, startled out of reverie by a gentle hand grasping my shoulder. I flinch away.

I look up to see Bao-Dur standing over me. "You fell asleep," he informs me. I blink a few times, not believing I've been out that long. I then sigh when I realize how dark it's gotten since I began to meditate. I feel the humidity of the jungle air around us and take note of his uncomfortable stance that reminds me that we are surrounded by Mandalorians. "Are you well?"

"Of course. Why wouldn't I be?" I lie, taking a few slow breaths before standing. "I was only thinking... of things I haven't remembered in a long time." He nods but hesitates before speaking.

"Were you thinking of the war?"

"I...yes," I fib again, following him past the a group of Mandalorians gathered at the fighting circle. It's easier than explaining what my life was before all this. Remote beeps a greeting and hovers over our heads where we pause.

"You haven't been sleeping," he states. I open my mouth to insist otherwise, but close it again when he makes eye contact with me.

"Some Jedi use deep meditation as an alternative to sleep," I inform him instead of lying again, though I'm sure he's well aware of the deflection.

"You're not 'some Jedi,' General,'" Bao-Dur points out. "In fact, you say you're not a Jedi at all," he smirks as he catches me in another half-truth.

"I don't need to be real Jedi in order to teach you how to be one."

"If you say so," he shrugs, a slight smile betraying the gesture.

"I... suppose I could use some sleep," I grudgingly admit.

"Should you really be drinking right now?" I demand as I approach you near the fire of the small camp they've allotted us.

You sit with your feet up, a bottle in your hand and relaxed grin adorning your face while you look at me. On the other side of our area, Mical and Visas meditate. Mira audibly exhales, deep asleep on a nearby cot. Kreia is nowhere to be found.

"Relax, angel. I'll be all set to go to Onderon in the morning," you assure me. I bite my lip, shaking my head. "I know a few ways to work off all that stress, you know," you add, quirking an eyebrow.

"The plan's changed. You're not coming to Onderon with me," I inform you, ignoring your remark. Your smirk goes slack, transforming into a frown as your brow furrows and arms cross themselves. You stand, sobering quickly.

"Ari..." you begin, your voice dropping considerably lower, though no one in the vicinity is aware enough to hear. "What if something happens? I said I want help you. How am I supposed to do that when you're a whole fraacking moon away?" you demand.

"I'm a big girl, Atton," I remind you, crossing my arms as well. "I'll have Kreia, Visas, and Mandalore with me."

"Great. The three most trustworthy people on this moon," you roll your eyes. "You're not doing much to convince me, gorgeous," you retort.

"I'll be fine. So will you." I don't mention that even if everything goes wrong, you'd most likely be able to feel it through our bond, if you're not actively trying to keep me out, anyway. "I know it's soon, but... I'd like you to fight with your lightsaber while we're apart."

"I don't-"

"Atton, if you don't trust yourself, it'll make it all the harder. Just...remember what I've taught you. I'm sending Bao-Dur, Mira, and Mical with you. HK, T3, and Go-to will watch the Ebon Hawk."

"Great. Droids guarding our only reliable way off this fracking moon. That definitely can't go wrong." You look at me when I don't comment.

"You're nervous." I look back, a glare that isn't as hostile as I mean it to be. You shrug. "You're biting your lip. Something up? Have anything to do with Master What's-His-Face?"

"No," I reply adamantly. You raise an eyebrow. Alright, that's part of it. The other part fueling my nerves is Dark force signatures surely concentrated in the tomb you're to go tramping through. "I just don't like sending some of the best of my crew under someone else's command."

"So...best of your crew, you said?" you prod, but let the original issue go.

"We should go to bed," I say, instead.

"My cot, or yours?" you reply, and I can hear the self-satisfied smirk in your voice.

"Atton..." I sigh, turning toward an empty cot so you don't see how the corner of my lip can't help but curve upwards in amusement.

"What?"

-x-x-x-x-x-x-

You stand tall, smiling your scoundrel's smirk with no evidence of last night's drink on you as you speak with Bao-Dur.

I am about to join you when feel her presence behind me, like a fog creeping in at its own leisure.

"You are distracted, Exile." I don't turn to face her and she comes to a stop at my side. "You should not concern yourself with the fool."

"I know," I reply, busying myself with adjusting my robes.

"You should not concern yourself because he has almost outworn his use," she adds, the hint of accusation in her sour tone. "And when the time comes, you must not hesitate to dispose of him."

I remain silent, swallowing an argumentative retort.

"You also focus unnecessarily so on the Master as well," she continues.

"Kavar does not concern me," I lie, with as much conviction as I can muster. "And Atton even less so," I add, even as I watch you toss and catch your unignited saber in your hands while sending a few unwarranted glares in Mical's general direction.

"Your truths are written in your eyes, Exile," Kreia scowls knowingly. "In the tone of your words, in the way you approach him, in all your denials. One such as him has nothing to offer, yet I fear that you will be too weak when the time comes if you continue this way. You would do well to remember what I've said."

She retreats from me, physically and mentally and I try not too think much on her usual cryptic warnings, though her words weigh more heavily than I'd like to give her credit for.

I turn to follow Kreia towards the shuttle, looking over my shoulder at you, Bao-Dur, Mira, and Mical. You immediately meet my eyes and nod once.

I nod back before continuing on my way with my steps feeling lighter.

-x-x-x-x-x-

A/N: I believe Bastila is supposed to be ~ 10 years younger than the exile but I just hate the thought of her being that young in kotor. Also, her and Ari/Meetra would clash so much that those two as rivals on Dantooine can't not be my headcanon.

It's late & I don't have time to properly edit, so hopefully I don't have any major mistakes! I might come back and edit at some point but will let you all know if I do.