----- There's always confusion when you wake up from a deep sleep. Sometimes, the dreams are so genuine, you find it hard to believe the world you suddenly see is real. There is confusion. The dream still lingers, and you feel that as it slips away, you are losing something important. I was only out for a minute. He is leaning over, hands to my neck for a pulse. His face is, as always, serious. And as my eye searches his, I see a moment, a silhouette, of fear. I push him away. I stand up shakily but alone. I don't need help. I need to be more careful than that. 'Had no pulse. Thought the worst.' I don't look at him but walk away. 'Don't worry. I'm not dead.' Yet. 'Come on, let's get that drink.' I still haven't found that something. But I'm getting closer. He is getting closer. I will find it soon. Just a little while longer, and I can return. ----- A note:

Flash back to Taris before facing Jicoln... 'Hey. Couldn't smell you coming.' Cadera turns his head form he had been squatting, watching the rakghouls below. He eyes me curiously. I shrug and join him, bodies tight next to each other in the small space. 'That Mandalorian humour?' 'Not a joke.' His blue eye tries to look into my eye. I keep it focused on the prowling rakghouls below. Not gonna tell him why I never smell. Rather not think about it. 'Did you get it? Where are your friends?' I raise an eyebrow at the second question. Wonder if the kids got the same thing for Mako she has for him. 'Single handed. Others wimped out.' I take out what I gathered and pass him the large air tight case. He opens it and evaluates the contents, nose not even cringing at he stench of the decomposing parts and waste. 'Next time, you crawl through the sewerage.' 'Do you know botany?' I scowl and make a slight shake of my head. Only know what's poisonous or what can be. Not much use if it can't kill anyone. 'Didn't think so.' I like the way he isn't scared to challenge me. Kind of refreshing. 'And who says there'll be a next time?' 'For this,' I gesture with chin and hand to the case he has already begun mixing things in, 'I'll make sure there is.' I return my eye to the area below and listen for any sounds behind. 'Not sure I like the sound of that.' I throw him a leer and we settle into silence. I move onto a rock at the very edge of the cliff and rest my back against the cave wall. Better angle to watch below and gives the Cadera punk more room. I close my eye an wait. Half an hour later and he's done. Was getting bored. Thought about going back a bit and seeing if there were any rakghouls left. 'Smear it all over you. Will throw them off our scent. Not sure how well in their den though. Keep your distance.' I take the past and begin the process. Isn't so bad. Gault and Mako and just wimps. Deducted money from both their pay for not coming. Gault wasn't too happy about that. Tried to say he called make up for it in other services. I just shot him down. Almost literally. He was quick on his feet. 'Ready?' His eyes never left me as covered my armour in it. Hope it doesn't wear the paint off. I nod and he picks up his blaster and tecstaff. 'Stay behind me. And close.' Don't want to have to watch out for the punk. He makes a reply but don't know how he means it. And I don't look to see. So I ignore it. I make for the cave entrance and begin the climb down. 'With pleasure.'

On Hoth... ----- On Hoth, we talk to some contacts, get a few large jobs. Our intel of how to draw out the Trandoshian is coming from a Jawa named Blizz. Last place I ever expected to see one. We sleep on the planet for a week, starting to track down the new target, do some odd jobs. It's all on the Chiss' tab, of course. Things have warmed between Torian and I again. We fight as one. On the seventh day the wind picks up. A blizzard is coming. Not exactly something you want to be out in. I don't fancy the idea of having to cut open a tuantuan and sleeping in it for warmth. Not my idea of a fun night. If each planet in the galaxy has a polar opposite, Hoth is Tatooine's. The entire surface of Hoth is jagged ice and plateaus of snow. The sky is either just as white with clouds, or shining blue with a burning sun. If you don't watch your step, you can fall off a cliff or down a snow covered pit. Neither are fun options to me. We fight native wildlife and Talz all the way back to the Imperial base. When we reach the cover, doors closing behind us, I pant 'twenty four Talz, seven wild cats and three wampas.' Despite the stimulants for cold resistance and our warm furs, it still seeps through. I don't mind so much. Don't really feel it. But Torian does. Under his serious bravado and stern frown, I hear his teeth chatter and his body shiver. 'Who's keeping score?' His voice is strong and firm. I wonder how he pulls it off when his teeth are chattering so loudly in my ears. I smile. Pain is rushing through me but I laugh. 'You were. I saw your lips moving. You were counting.' He almost grins. Almost. 'Twenty two Talz, four Wild cats and five Wampas. I would say that's a tie, Champion.' 'You wish.' I punch his shoulder. He cringes. And I pass out laughing.

After landing on Hoth some days later... ----- It takes a bit of time for Mako to get a connection to the channel we were given for the next Black List target. When we do, I'm not surprised to see a Chiss on the holo. He is dressed in expensive robes, and doesn't seem to bother with pleasantries. Never cared for them myself, but the thought always counts. Means I might almost think twice before shooting someone. 'This is a surprise. This holo frequency hasn't had an inquiry in some time. I believed there were no longer any interested parties.' I shrug. 'It's because you look cheap.' I smirk at his surprised and offended look. Gault chokes. I like shocking him with my wonderful diplomatic abilities. This Chiss looks the opposite of cheap. 'But if you've got a job, consider me an interested party.' The target is a legendary Trandoshian. His names Reneget Vause. Doesn't sound too tough. Reps are rarely anything to go by. And Mako still sleeps with a bed light. Her fear isn't a good judge. Guess the only way to know is to face him myself. 'Vausse appears to have joined up with the White Maw, a massive confederacy of pirates pillaging Hoth's starship graveyard.' They've been hitting Chiss targets and damaging business. 'Sound like my kind of people.' Gault snickers in the background. 'Maybe you'll finally find that someone that shares your interest in making craters in the ground.' Torian coughs uncomfortably and Mako giggles. I smirk at Gault. 'Nothing says romance like setting off a few bombs.' I wink at Torian. He looks away with slight embarrassment. But I can see him making a note of it. And a pleased glint in his eyes. I don't let myself read too much into it. Doesn't mean anything. The Chiss coughs for attention. He gives some details of the situation on Hoth and their agreement with the Empire. I'm fully aware of the situation on Hoth. Was here only a year ago. The Chiss signs off.

Title: Yours to Hold Link: http://www.swtor.com/community/showthread.php?t=541733 Author: EverSteam Class: Bounty Hunter

Link to Torian's perspective on last few posts: http://www.swtor.com/community/showthread.php?p=5255954#post5255954

Yours to Hold Torian Cadera x female Bounty Hunter No spoilers for anything at all. First person from Torian - though this is kind of a stand alone thread that may or not be followed, it runs along my bounty hunters story in 'When I Wake' though it isn't necessary to of read it, it is just highly complementary - link for it here: http://www.swtor.com/community/showthread.php?t=536484 'Night after Quesh' relates to post #30, 32 and 34 in 'When I Wake'. Especially 30 and 34 so reading 30, 34 and then this provides a good contrast on perspectives of the other. Enjoy. ----- Night after leaving Quesh She's been avoiding me. Hurts a lot. I just watch her from across the crate. She's beautiful. I don't know how she doesn't see it. She was born to be a goddess, but she doesn't seem to notice. Everyone else does. I clench my fists when I think of Gault. Hut'uunla di'kut. I want to tell her these things and more. But I know she would only laugh and smirk. I'm just a Mando kid to her. A means to an end. I remember back in the trap, after the fight. I saw the pain in her stance as she tried to fight something inside her. The way she lent on the desk like she couldn't trust herself to stand alone. I want her to lean on me. On reflex I took half a step forward. I reached out my hand. I'm stretching but she's just out of reach. I want to kiss her. And take it all away. But I can't. I don't want to die like that. Know that's all that would come from it. So I take another step back and drop my hand. The movement disorientated me. I became aware of the wound on my shoulder. She watched me and walked over, taking off her gloves. Her hands are soft and gentle. It's a little surprising. I want to hold them in my own coarse hands. The studs on her knuckles are amazing. I had never seen them that close. I remember what they did to the man on Taris. They only make her more beautiful. Never met such a strong woman, even among the Mando'ad. They don't compare to her. Not even in the same galaxy. I looked at the thing in replace of her eye. Wondered if it hurts her. I want to know what happened to her. But I can't ask. She doesn't want me to know. I know that's why she avoids my eyes. I see more then she thinks I do. I have no doubt of her skill in battle. I don't find it hard to believe she killed the Mandalorian Killer. So I guess I was just an ade in awe. 'Kellian Jarro. You took down the 'Mandolorian Killer'?' Means she should be famous amongst the Mando'ad. A celebrity. Makes me sad she isn't. 'You seem surprised.' Her eye met mine and I saw her hurt. I saw my mistake. Sounded like surprise and disbelief. Didn't mean to offend her. Never want to offend her. She motioned to her hands. 'Didn't have a chance.' I looked at them again. I think what I have since I first saw them: what happened to you? Her bones can be seen, dark and metallic under her skin. They disappear up her arm. I wonder if it stops. She finished and walked away. I didn't know what to say. My mouth opened and closed as I think of saying a hundred different things. None of them were right. I finally decided what to say. But a sudden alarm cut me off before anything came out. 'More trouble.' It didn't do justice to what I wanted to say. But I suppose that's all I'm ever going to cause for myself. I don't mind. Never been one to stay out of trouble. 'I thought the body count was low anyway.' I couldn't agree more. Nothing is more thrilling and intoxicating then fighting with her. My cyare. I let her kill them. She needed to. I like the way she fights through her pain as if her enemies were an embodiment of it and her past. I respect her. But that is an understatement. Feel a lot more than just respect. We left. 'I'll cover your rear.' It's all I can ever say. On the way back, she fought harder. Tried not to show it but I know it was to compensate for my shoulder. To protect me. Kind of flattered by that but I don't dare read into it. After we got back and she filled the others in, she was quick to wave me away. I know the order to rest wasn't in concern for my shoulder. But on her way down to the Deveronian, there was concern as she made an inquiry. I look into her eyes now and try and find that same concern. She almost blushes when she sees me staring at her from across the rudimentary table. I don't mean to. Can't help it. I want to know what she was thinking. What she spent hours talking to the Deveronian about. What he said that made her so hurt and withdrawn. Image of his hand on her chest is burnt into my memory. She was already a little off since earlier on Quesh. He seemed to make it worse. Don't know what to say to make amends. All I want to do is erase her pain. I can still hear her cries. I look at the flower. It's finally finished. Took me a few weeks. Harder by working on only memory. But not much. Remember every moment with her perfectly. Remember her approval at killing Jicoln. Remember the rush of fighting next to her. Remember the concern she tried to hide. The fierce grin she let slip when killing. The darkness that came around her and made her so alive. I run my finger over the petals, feeling the tiny grooves that are almost as thin as those on your fingers. It catches the light that comes down through a gap in the steps, it's silver mirror surface creating rainbows in the air. I like sleeping under the stairs. Not much choice I guess. Rather get eaten by a malraas then sleep near that Deveronian. But no complaints. Better here than back with the Mando's. Guess I miss my friends and Corridan, though. Thump. I look up, alert. Sound came from the shower. I listen intently but no more come. My gaze returns to the silver flower. Would have been quicker to finish if Mako wasn't always around. Surprised she's not sitting with me now. Guess she's hiding in shame after the make she made about Quesh. I don't want to go make her feel better. Not my place. Not my way. I put the flower away in the crate where I keep the other things. I take out a barrel I'm working on and fiddle with it. Should be finished soon. My next order of metals should arrive soon too. I put the barrel away and sit. Cyare's been in the bathroom awhile. Thump. It was louder this time. I stand alert in the cargo hold, ready to run up the stairs. But no other sounds come. Think I might hear something like a scream. But I dismiss it. I take my shirt off and pick up my staff. Start to go through some basic forms. She runs a tight ship. Tougher than Mando'ad. Didn't think that was possible. Even got the Deveronian working on his aim. He tries to not let the rest of us see. She expects our best. I want to give her more than that. Crash. I drop my staff mid twirl and listen. The sound was like shattered glass. I hear distinctive crying. I run to the bathroom door. But I don't dare touch it. Mako is there a split second after. Deveronian's nowhere to be seen. Mako bangs on the door, shouting for her to open it. The door stays closed. Mako gives up and leaves. But I stand there for a long time. I'm too weak to open it. But too strong to leave. I can't bring myself to knock and call to her. So I listen to her sobbing instead. They burn my ears and echo in my mind for hours after. I know I can't do anything. And we are not supposed to hear or know. So I left her to suffer alone. I don't think I'll ever be able to live with that. She shakes her head at something she was thinking. Makes her red hair wave like a crimson flag. I like it when she doesn't have it slicked back for battle. I decide an approach to making amends. 'Been watching you work.' She doesn't offer a response. Just eats and avoids my eyes. I like the way I make her squirm like this. Never seen her do it in the presence of anyone else. Even Sith Lords. Makes me a little sad though. 'You're an amazing shot.' I try to let her hear how much I respect her. That I know what she's capable of. In the weeks and then months to come, I will look back and realise how very little I actually knew. Her arm twitches. She always wears full length clothes. Never seen any more than her face and hands. I want to know what's underneath. Seen too much of Mako. Don't want to hurt the kids feelings by telling her I'm not interested but I never take her up on her offers, either. Guess I should. It's only getting worse. Don't think she could get any further away from being my type. Cyare shovels more food into her mouth and speaks with her mouth full. 'I should be. I'm a Champion.' I nod. True enough. Don't know what answer I really wanted, but it wasn't that. I know she was thinking something else. I want more than her strong shield of arrogance and cold indifference. I don't believe that's all she is. I know there's more. Guess if there isn't, I'm in love with an impossible dream. 'Don't make it far in this business if you miss.' 'I've seen successful hunters who couldn't shoot to save their lives,' I quickly reply. True enough. Image of Jogo is strong in my mind. She doesn't reply to that, but I see a smirk on her lips. I vaguely eat some more food. Not sure if this actually is food. I don't touch my drink. Being drunk near her doesn't seem like the wisest move. Not sure what I'd do. But my track record isn't spotless. Don't know how Gault is still alive. Spend a lot of time wondering about that. Others have been shot dead for a lot less than what he says. She leans back. Surprised she doesn't fall off the crate. Perfect balance. There's that smirk on her lips. But it's a little different. There's a painful twist at the end. 'So you've been watching me this long and all you've noticed is my aim?' She raises the drink to her red lips. 'I'm disappointed.' I almost grin at her. But I'm still cautious. Don't think I'm beyond getting shot yet. 'Less likely to shoot me if I only comment on your aim.' Her teasing smile twists into a frown. Something dark passes over her face. Like she's in pain. I just want her to know I'm her's to hold. 'It's nice to see a professional in action.' I let my eyes take her in. Guess I'm being a little bold. Might not need to drink to be stupid. Figure I might die tomorrow any way. What's a few hours difference? 'Quite the view.' Guess I'm fond of understatements when it comes to her. She reaches for the gun at her hip. Half draws it. It was a reflex. Too quick to have thought about it. I flinch back. I don't take it personal. But I can't help but think of Gault again. Never drawn a gun on him. She just laughs as if that can make it go away. As if it was a joke. What happened to her? I study her. Wonder what she's thinking. I want to know. The droid comes and interrupts us. But I don't even glance up. Given up pretending to eat this food. Cyare tries to pretend nothing happened. She pours more rum into my glass. It's almost over flowing. 'Drink, Torian.' She doesn't look into my eyes as she says it. Just somewhere near my mouth. Her hand gesturing to my glass. I nod a little and obey. Never disobeyed a direct order. The rum is harsh. Don't know how she drinks it. Seems like water to her. She doesn't even try to make it seem like she doesn't taste it. I wonder if she can. I like the way she started to say my name for the first time. Not ashamed of my clan anymore. Just like to hear her say my name. I guess I look at her curiously. She started to after we competed. I know I won. But that was only today. I feel like I didn't see anything near her best. 'I like you calling me Torian. Not Cadera.' She looks me in the eye for a moment. But then immediately away. There was something like shy embarrassment in them. She keeps eating. I wonder if she realises that the food is changing colour. She gazes out the window a little. Wonder what things look like through her eyes. 'I know what you mean, by the way.' She looks at me out of the corner of my eye. My body immediately reacts. Her eye moves down. 'Views not bad from here either, Torian.' 'Glad to oblige.' My heart is beating quicker. My body is hot. I want her. I want her to lean on me like she does Gault. I want her to sleep next to me like she does him. I want her to want me. I want to have her. I drink some of the rum from my almost empty glass. For a change, I'm the one that looks away. But it doesn't last long. My eyes are a compass needle and she is my north. She fidgets. Doesn't eat though. Think she finally realised the food had gone from a bland grey to blue to orange. She stands to leave. I don't know what to say to make her stay. I don't want her to leave. 'You know, if you ever want to see more... I'd be happy to give you a better view.' Her voice and eyes are suggestive. So is her body language. I want to take her up on that here and now. My body is more than ready. But something told me she didn't mean it. Didn't want it. And before I can say anything or respond, she's already walking up the stairs. 'I'll remember you said that.' Don't think I'll do much but remember for weeks. Remember and imagine. All I want is to be closer than words. But I feel that this is the closest to heaven that I'll ever be. ----- Author's note:

A few hours after talking to Gault.... ----- I fear I will never be able to heal my soul. I hide the damage from sight. I hide my emotions from sight. Sometimes, I think I just imagine I have emotions. I wish. M y body is a constant reminder of the monster I am meant to be. Inside and out. I guess when you wear a mask for so long, when you pretend for so long, you can't remember what was underneath. The real and the fake join together and form something new. Something undefinable. And possibly, irreversible. I suppose Gault was partly right. But I can't go back to the way I was. That was a different person. I am the corpse that they left walking when they died. All that remain are a few old habits. I am his perfect executioner. Even in my freedom. And even in his death. I just don't know how to live again. But I want Torian to help me. I shake my head. Stupid, idle thought. Torian sees me looking at him. He stares back across the crates. Open. Something close to a blush comes to my cheeks. I feel shame in my reverie. Don't like anyone, huh? Voices tell me I should carry on. He would never help me. I am nothing to him but another warrior. And a Mandalorian. A champion. A man. A leader. A captain. A hunter. I have never thought of what kind of person I am. Not after it. I am a killer. But as he stares at me, a question in his eyes, I want to be what he likes. I want him to see good things. Somehow, people always never truly believe I can kill people. Or that I can hurt them. I want to know what they see before then. What did Gault think of me before I shot that pathetic Padawan? I know Mako disapproves sometimes. She thinks me heartless. I used to think so too. I still am. 'We're not like Eidolon, right? We're different?' **** this kid is annoying. I hate people with consciences. Always regretting. Always being troubled. I don't care who we are like or not. The only difference I really care about is that I live and they die. As long as I remain the one that walks away. 'Who cares, Mako?' Not what she wanted to hear. She wants to know we are 'good people'. We're not. But this is what I am. I was made. And it can't be undone. She keeps talking anyway. She does too much of that. 'I mean, assassins kill people for money. You kill people for money. How are you different form the Eidolon?' I notice how the 'we' turns into a 'you'. 'I am alive. I am better. That's how. Everyone I kill deserves to die.' The galaxy deserves to die. There is nothing in it worth saving. Nothing important. 'I hope that's true, because otherwise that makes us the bad guys too.' It sounds like she wants me to care. Reflect and change my ways. But I don't care. I just want everyone to die. There is no good. Only **** and corruption and pain. I will make this world into my image. They will suffer my righteous fury. I want revenge. Against the galaxy. And if that makes me 'bad' then so be it. When I am done, it will be burning and scarred. Mutated and ugly. It's already heartless. I don't have to do that. I shake my head. I feel like I'm changing. I don't know where it's leading. Nar Shaddaa and the Eidolon already feels so very, very long ago. Even Taris does. It's only been around a month since we left Taris. A month since he came aboard. Or something around a month. Maybe two. Definitely don't think it's three... 'Been watching you work.' He looks at me cautiously. He is looking for something. Trying to catch my eye. I avoid them. We are more silent tonight. Something still aches. 'You killed the Mandalorian Killer?' I look at my plate. We eat on a make shift table in the storage area near the door. It's made from large containers with god knows what in them. Never thought to look. The smaller ones are used as seats. Torian likes it there. I just like the company. Everywhere on this ship is where I like to be. Never had a home. Always thought they were overrated. It's nice to be proved wrong. A first. But still nice. The food is crap. None of us have an affinity for cooking. And anything is definitely better than the droids cooking. I live in fear of hearing the words 'I've prepared a new meal for you culinary pleasure.' But it's alright. Gault is in his room, making calls. Scamming people out their money. The usual. He's got some plan involving water and salt. I told him I would help. For a share of the profits. Mako is out getting a few things for me. I expected her back tonight. If she were here, I wouldn't be. He continues to stare. It's disconcerting. I've been stared at in many ways, but never like that. Usually we sit in silence. 'You're an amazing shot.' His voice is thick with awe and respect. Disbelief. And his voice is rough. It's a man's voice. Somehow, it doesn't quite suit. Inside, he has aged. Outside, he is a young kid. I resist the temptation to reach up to my eye. Where it was. So my arm just twitches by my side as the other continues feeding me. It still hurts to think about. I pump sedatives in me daily to stop the real pain though. Not much can be done about the other wounds. Many replies go through my mind. But I don't want to make the kid uncomfortable. He doesn't need to know. I don't want him to know. 'I should be. I'm a Champion.' And I have a targeting device in my right eye... He nods. I've noticed he does that when something is said he doesn't agree with. Or he hasn't gotten the answer he wants. I shovel more food into my mouth. 'Don't make it far in this business if you miss.' 'I've seen successful hunters who couldn't shoot to save their lives.' He spreads his hands wide, almost knocking off his untouched drink. I smirk. It makes me think of all the hunters I killed to get here. They weren't anything. We continue eating. I lean back in my chair. I raise my drink. 'So you've been watching me this long and all you have noticed is my aim?' I smirk over my drink. The action always shifts the cybernetics painfully. 'I'm disappointed.' I'm hurting myself by doing this. Making him look at me. I'm not Mako. I used to be worth looking at. But that was a long time ago. If you're in the shadows, it doesn't matter what you look like. But when he looks at me, to know he really has been watching me, bleeds a part of me. And I wish I was more than what I am. He smiles. They have been getting bigger. Still serious but... different. I want to make him grin. 'Less likely to shoot me if I only mention your aim.' My sneer changes to something else. Torian had seen me kill enough men, and especially after Taris, to know. The funniest jokes are often the truest. And that makes me hurt a little more. I hate this thing in me. It's been growing. Changing me. And it screams in pain at the thought that he will never touch me, or love me. That I am more likely to shoot him then sleep with him. What a fool. Him or me? His smile retreats. 'It's nice to see a professional in action.' His eyes quietly look me over. I am self conscious. I remember my conversation with Mako. I wish durasteel looked as good on me as she said it did. 'Quite the view.' I instinctively reach for my gun at my hip. But I let it fall. He sees. Taken aback. And it hurts. I laugh. I drink. The droid walks in at some stage. 'Have I mentioned how much I enjoy serving you, master?' I wave him away. 'I am a lucky droid master. That is all.' He walks away with a toddle. If droids could whistle, I know it would be. Torian ignores the interruption. He is staring. And thinking. I top up his still full drink, filling my own. 'Drink, Torian.' His face twists a little quizzically. But he obeys. So very serious. 'I like you calling me Torian. Not Cadera.' I instinctively look in his eyes. Mistake. Back to eating. The silence goes on a little. It's evolving from Taris. More tense. More emotion. More something. I don't like it. I am a cat in a box and I want to get out. I'm scared. I look out a small window. 'I know what you mean, by the way.' I look at him slyly. I try to seem suggestive. Nonchalant. 'The views not bad from here either, Torian.' He smiles. No nod. I am relieved. My muscles tighten and relax. Feelings are strange. He smiles a little. 'Glad to oblige.' He drinks. I feel him beaming inside. Makes me beam in response. I can hear his heart beat quickening. It's a little endearing. He's sweet for a Mando kid. And my own blood pumps quicker. Yes. Feelings are very strange. Always been good at reading others. Not really my own. Don't usually have enough. We don't eat anymore. It's gone cold and changed colour. Don't think about that. I decide to leave. Go and do something. Maybe practise my shooting... I push the crate back and pick up my plate. I start to walk away. I feel him watching me. If I still could, I would blush. 'You know, if you ever want to see more... I'd be happy to give you a better view.' I nod. And walk upstairs. A small lie. This is the closest to heaven that I will ever be. I will not give in to hope. My boots are loud on the steps. Part of my mind is shouting at him. At me. Because I know I would give up forever to touch him. But everything is made to be broken. I just can't let him know what I am. Clang, clang, clang. In between steps, I think I hear Torian speak. Mako returns. As I take off my armour and stand naked and alone, I can hear her laugh. And in my minds eyes, I can see Torian grinning. A ghost stares back at me from cracked mirror. She can never be seen. She is white. Silver cuts emerge like vines from under metal plates. They are patch work on her skin. Her shoulders, her thighs. And they cover her heart. Melded to follow the curve of her chest as it rests between them. He didn't want them covered completely. So the odd, rectangular plate is only in between, not even covering half of each breast. It continues under the left one. It meets the long skinny plate down her spine that ends in a sharp point. Built on plating. There are dark shadows under her skin. Metal moulded to bone. She moves her hand to touch the area of her heart. It hurts. I can't feel a beat. I have never felt a beat. Not for nine years. I am scared there is nothing real underneath. That all I am is empty mechanics. Cold. He is smiling. 'You will be our perfect little killer.' The knife shines. 'You were born a killer.' He looks into my eyes. 'Innocent and heartless.' He begins to cut. But something is hurting. I take tranquilisers. I put my armour back on. I lie down to sleep. Clang. 'I'll remember.' Clang. 'You said that.' Clang. It still hurts. -----

------- There was always confusion when I woke. The dream would slip away and I would not remember my reality. My eyes would stay open and darkness would remain. I would panic. Try to thrash. Limbs bound and struggling against unseen things. My throat was raw and my voice gone in only a day. I spent almost a year on that bed. And then the pain would start. A light turned on. And I would remember. The hours of wakefulness filled with pain as my body was cut, things removed and changed. Mutated. Sometimes, he would show me the skin he sheared away. I could feel the heavy metal plates that they grafted on instead. The fire. Welding. Not really sure how it worked. Fantasy and fact joined together in my delusions. I would imagine. And I am sure what I imagined came nowhere close. But the pain was real. And never ending. Letters and words cannot describe what it felt like. They are insufficient. My eye was last. The scalpel blade disappearing into nothing as it come to cut out my eye. I am not sure how my scar came. I try not to think about it. In the coming years, I created stories to tell to others. To scare them. Or impress. A large monster. A Darth. A psychopathic father. Nothing I could imagine was ever as horrifying as the truth. They paled in comparison. When I passed out, they would often stop amputating. They would start as soon as I wake up. But I don't remember everything they did to my chest. I know I wasn't awake for the worst. But I remember their work on my eye. The pain. The flashes of vision. For a very long time, things blurred; half thermal vision and targeting, half normal. It made me vomit. Eventually, I managed to change the thermal to normal. It took awhile. But it was worth it. Better then fighting half blind. Hearing was also hard to control. Hearing everything. Every beat. Ever step. Every whisper. But eventually, I managed to control it. I had to adapt to survive. A hatred cultivated in me with every cut. An anger. It swallowed all sadness or hurt at a betrayal. I swore to annihilate the Republic. Destroy this place. These people. Him. I waited. I knew I would have to wait years. But it would come. My righteous fury. My justice. My apocalypse. I would make the world as ugly as it made me. I only had to wait. The only thing worth saving was what remained of my life. The only thing that was important was freedom. I will be free. I will make my own rules. I will rule. The mantra of the caged and helpless.

On the way to the next BL target on Hoth... ------ 'You know, Champion, I know your secret.' I snort. Gault looks at me calmly. He takes slow sips from his drink and doesn't say anything. I don't either. Gault's opinion isn't worth more than my pride. I know he will talk first. And so the silence drags out. We're sitting in the make shift bar in the engine room. The old, unused mattress we sit on is against the wall. It's like a couch. Used to be in the cargo hold before that become Torian's room. 'You were hurt.' He lifts a lazy arm and pokes my chest. His drink spills, drops falling from the bottom. I take the empty hand that has fallen from my chest. I bend the fingers back until there are tiny cracks. I am careful not to break them. 'You know, you really are violent.' I roll my eye. Having only one minimises the impact. But it's a habit I haven't been able to get rid of. He continues. 'You want to hide that under anger, death and, the classic, work.' He is talking differently. More from the heart. The edge of mockery is missing a little. I don't like it. I know there's more to Gault than on the surface. But I don't want to see it. I deny that he is right. I think about punching him. I think about leaving the room. I think about making good on my threat from back on Dromund Kaas. But all I do is think about it. 'You became heartless because it was easier. Easier than feeling. Facing the fact that you feel. Have a heart. And someone hurt it.' An interesting insight. I didn't think Gault noticed much. I suppose this is where the cliché line 'it wasn't like him' comes from. Strangely, I feel sad. And there's an ache. I want something I don't want to name. 'You want everyone to feel the pain that you feel. You're good at pretending. I think you have convinced yourself that you are the role you play.' He finishes his drink. 'But now you can't keep it up anymore.' The mocking grin returns. 'You like Blondie too much.' He is so very, very wrong. He started so well. A beginning moment of truth in his misguided lies. I shake my head. I move the crushed hand to my chest. His eyes widen a little. There is no beat. 'Heartless,' I whisper. I stand and leave. I think I will kill Gault in the morning. ------ Author's note:

On return to the ship... ---- 'So, we on easy streak now or what?' Gault is eager to see the money. Most excited I've ever seen him outside of a cantina on Nar Shaddaa. 'No, Mako blew it. She couldn't tell it was bogus and a Republic setup.' I'm not that angry. A little insulted They couldn't face me head on. No traps. No lures. I'm also a little disappointed. Thought They'd had enough time and money invested in me to deserve more. 'What? But- how? The letter was one hundred percent legitimate. I traced it back to Andascorp and cross checked all the signatures.' She is disbelieving. Her pride's a little hurt. She failed one of the few tasks she has. And almost killed us. Think the concern's more for Torian than me. 'No harm done. But that doesn't mean I want excuses. It was legitimate. They were cooperating with the SIS.' Still. She should have foreseen it. But suppose there was no way to know. 'The SIS? We have to be seriously careful then to stay off their scanners.' No. We have to hit harder. Until we get the big guns. And I tear them apart. Piece by piece. Bloodworthy calls before I can say anything. He's got a new target for me. I can't wait. The conversation is relatively brief. When his figure disappears Torian speaks first. 'What's our next move?' Always eager for action. The Mandalorian is definitely growing on me. A little too much. 'We've got another black list mark to deal with. Have the black lists coordinates logged by the time I'm ready to head out.' They nod to follow my orders. All dispersing. I head back to my quarters. Torian hangs around my shadow a little. I don't want to talk. So I dismiss him with an order to rest. I didn't hold back on the way back to the ship. It hurt more then I could ever describe. But I knew he couldn't fight as well while his shoulder was mending, and he's a terrible shot with a blaster. Didn't want to make it obvious though; can't have his precious Mandalorian pride hurt. He'll be fine tomorrow and my sacrifice kept him breathing. Isn't that much of a big deal. I wash my face and clean the cybernetics around my eye and ears. They have others blood in them. I stare back at myself in the mirror. The metal patch over my eye is large. A small red light can be seen in the centre. A targeting device. Thermal vision. Night vision. Telescopic vision. Micro vision. Everything including real vision. Except x-ray vision, actually. Wouldn't of minded that... There is only one scar on my face. It runs from my forehead, behind my patch and appears again on the other side. It ends down my cheek, puckered and white. I used to look like a perfect porcelain doll; white with blushed cheeks, naturally cherry lips. Now, I still look like a doll, only I'm broken and terrifying. Cracked and poorly glued back together. I thump my fists on the metal sink. I scream in anger. My fists goes through the mirror. It shatters. The pieces splitting and multiplying. Blood splashes. I thump my fists again and again on the sink. I crumple to the ground. I hear Torian silently standing outside the door as Mako tries to bang it down. I don't answer. They don't break in. I feel him standing there for a long time. Just out of reach and something between us. He doesn't knock on the door. Only stands and listens. And that makes this hurt even more. I don't want him to see me. Every reflection of me is a hideous insult. For the second time in weeks, I am bleeding. But this time, I hate the reminder that I am alive. I want to be more than I am. All that thumps in my ear is the single word and I loathe myself with passion. My body is torn in pain. Metal plates fail to keep this feeling in. Keep this thing out. Split fragments of myself stare back at me from the jagged shards that litter the ground. They scream a single word. And I silently and tearlessly cry. Disgusting.

We head to where the job is supposed to be. Torian's mouth is in a constant state of twitching into a smile. Mine is a set frown. I feel flushed and I need to think. Something is changing in me. I'm hurting. The tranquilisers aren't working anymore. I need their serum. I try to think of the job ahead. I want to keep this short. Something doesn't feel right. This better be worth it. We walk in the door under a hill. I glance back down at the barren, toxic wasteland. Nice view. When we enter, the director greets us just inside the entrance. He seems off. His standard flattery is empty, too serious and calculating. 'Skip the pleasantries, director. I want to get down to business.' We move to his office and he calls for drinks. Soldiers come out. And a Jedi Knight. 'Well, not entirely unexpected,' I mumble to Torian. He raises his hands and takes a step back. What a naive reaction to a gun in your face. Mine is different. I pull out my own. 'Knew I didn't like this,' is his only reply. 'Save it for Mako,' I retort. A tiny holo figure of a Jedi appears on the desk and the director, the holo Master and the real life Knight carry on with explanations as if nothing was said. It has something to do with the Jedi I took out - my last target in the Great Hunt. I remember. I killed his Padawan as well. And this situation seems to basically end in death or arrest. 'Touch me, and you'll end up in a body bag.' My muscles flex. My plating shifts and my skin ripples. I want them all dead. I feel livid and powerful. 'We can take them.' Torian's confidence is reassuring. I was never in doubt. The Jedi pulls out his lightsaber. Typical. Its heat burns my neck. 'Not so tough now, are we?' But the jedi lowers his lightsaber on orders. I smirk. Trained Kath hounds. 'Enjoying yourself aren't you? Not very Jedi like of you.' My leer widens at the flash of irritation I feel from him. They get so uptight if you mention anger to them. Jedi and Sith are both the same. Arrogant and flawed. 'Disarm them. They're a tricky bunch.' The holo Jedi Master gives his orders. I can tell the Jedi won't follow them. 'This thug isn't going anywhere.' Typical corruption. 'Yes, I am. Once you're all dead.' I enjoy the kills. It soothes me. The cold hatred is like a balm over my tearing body. We are efficient and merciless. Only the tiny Jedi Master systems away is left alive. 'You've only made matters worse for yourself,' he says spitefully. I doubt it. Jedi are too weak for torture and they have already tried to kill me. A pathetic and pointless endeavour. 'Try anything like this again and I'll be paying you a visit.' It's a lie. I am already going to kill him. He doesn't have to do anymore. 'Justice will be done. I promise you.' I snort in derision and flick the call off. Justice is a pitiful ideal for the weak. There is no justice in this galaxy. You must make your own. Or have none at all. 'That will teach them to mess with Mandos.' A smile twitches my own lips at Torian's naive enthusiasm. I don't reply. My gloved hands remain on the desk. I lean on them. I need to steady myself. My body is suddenly weak. And he is close. Something is wrong. His eyes are watching me. Considering and searching. His body sways on the spot. There is a wound on his shoulder. He almost takes a step forward but stops. One foot forward one foot back. My chest heaves. I remain impassive. My body is weak and in pain. But I go to him. I pull out some med pacs and begin fixing his wound, gloves off. His body has no scars, except the clan scars that shape his cheeks. This wound will be no different. There will be no scar left behind. He continues to watch. Staring at my hand, at my eye. His gaze lingers on the thin metal rods that run under my skin, from my knuckles to up the darkness under my armoured arm. I don't want him to see me. I don't think he'd understand. 'Kellian Jarro. You took down the 'Mandolorian Killer'?' Spoken slowly. 'You seem surprised.' It hurt me. And just for a second, when my eye looked into his, I think it showed. Underestimated again. But it had never hurt this much. I gesture with my strong, smooth and pale chin to my hands. I was created and made to be the greatest weapon. I say it indifferently. But only in my mind. It is a fact. It is what I am. But I have never spoken the words. Suppose part of me thinks if I don't say it aloud, it's not really true. After all these years, somewhere and somehow, I cling to this belief. I don't want him to know who I am. 'Didn't stand a chance.' It's all I can say. I finish my job. I stand and walk away, leaving him to sit and stand alone. I know he is a gaping fish. His mouth opening and closing for air; trying to form words to project across the silence. The distance between us. But an alarm sounds They finally come. 'More trouble.' 'I thought the body count was low, anyway.' More killing. I immerse myself in it. I channel my frustration through my movements and kills. I try to kill the hurt in me. The anger. The disappointment. They run from down the stairs. I jump, twist and plunge amongst them. I set them all on fire. They are dead before Torian reaches us. I walk on the burning corpses. We grab the stimulant and leave. We don't talk. We don't compare kills. As we break into the now night sky, Cadera only says 'I'll cover your rear.' We head back the ship. We have seen enough of Quesh.

Later on Quesh... ---- Cadera and I carve a path along Quesh. We make a game of it. Quesh isn't really a fun planet. It's poisonous, foul and barren. The frequent pools of water splattered amongst dry hard dirt, bubbles and sizzles. Tress and anything green is rare. So of course the native wildlife have to be carnivorous. Gotta find the fun where you can. Not that I have eye for fun. I just need to avert my mind from the pain. I don't know how it happened. The game, that is. We stood with ten dead. I claimed six, he claimed seven. That's when we started counting. After we finish with the Republic soldiers and wait for the Walker to come down, we add up our totals. 'Fifteen Republic, four bat-birds, and ten frog lizards.' I feel triumphant. Liquid is running quickly through me. Almost like a heart is beating fast. Not my best. I held back. Thought it was good enough to beat a Mando trained punk. His mouth twitches. Sweat is dripping from under his helmet. He takes off his helmet and wipes his brow. Blonde hair plastered to his forehead. I almost choke. Something constricted and I couldn't breathe. Maybe my cybernetics are too tight... 'Who's keeping score?' 'I am.' I sound confident. A champion. But not a killer. 'Then you would know I killed seventeen Republic soldiers, two harvorisk and twelve lobels'. He gloats. His voice carries emotions in them when his face is stoic and serious. I feel his pride. His arrogance. And his teasing. I am impressed. The Walker explodes in the background. I watch his face but avoid his eyes. I smile. I feel something close to glee. It is odd. I am excited. I stand quickly and run across the path. I jet pack onto one of the large droids, shooting the head I stand on. Torian arrives quickly after, jumping down to its legs. Stabbing and cutting. 'Try to keep up, Torian! You might learn something from the Grand Champion.' He looks at me seriously, a curious expression on his face. The droid shoots. He only just manages to dodge. I laugh and continue to shoot. I jump off and launch a rocket in the air. When I land, I let go with my flame thrower. Torian does the same. We are in time. Killing is funner when you have someone to really share it with. The bond between us strengthens. I am almost happy. And that knowledge pulls at my chest. Happiness isn't what I was born for.

Quesh ----- 'I'm Moff Dracen. Head of Imperial Forces here on Quesh. You're here to help our war efforts against the Republic?' 'It'll cost you. My rates sky rocket during war time. Can't afford it then you're wasting my time.' He's underlings frown, and I smirk at them all. 'Your war, not mine.' All I hear from the **** face punk with him is 'stinking mercenaries' and something like 'women don't belong on the battle field.' I'm not in the mood for this kind of ****. Taris gave me enough of it. So does Gault. And my body is aching. My joints are slowing. I can feel my body separating from the metal. It hurts. I need more sedatives. 'Ooo, you sound so important.' I punch him. Twice. Hard. He rubs his jaw, which has started bleeding. Tears brim in his eyes. He appeals to his commanding officer, who merely waves him away. 'Couldn't have hurt that bad. I thought women didn't belong on the battlefield.' I spit on his shoes. I hate soldiers. Imperial or Republic. There leaders are worse. Cadera watches, impassive and serious. They want me to help with something or other. Political crap. I say I'll see if I can fit it in. I know I will do it. Pays too good. But I don't give a **** about their politics. Both sides burn the world. When the dust clears and both sides have lost, it will be free lancers and the underworld that rule what's left of the galaxy. I just want as many credits out of it as I can. I just want revenge.

Sometime later on the ship... 'Nice! Now I know we hit the big time!' Because getting access to the mythical Black List wasn't a big enough hint. I continue to plot coordinates. Not sure is she's talking to me, Torian, or herself. I think it's the last. Pretty sure she wasn't talking to Gault. The silence lengthens. 'If you're gonna say something, Mako, spit it out already or **** off. I'm trying to type coordinates.' 'Well, you might want to stop because we might change direction! I'm just so excited.' I roll my eye. She is grating. Constant prattle. Which she promptly continues. I don't listen to much. But I get the gist. Some company wants me to endorse something. Stims I think I heard her say. It's a little low. Not the pay. Just the job in general. But I don't care. Whatever works. As long as there are sup Republic's where ever we're going. But I don't have much time. Pain is getting worse. Gault is all for it. Wants to help 'negotiate.' Says he thinks he can help get more for it. More I think he's going to claim in his 30%. Torian is against is. 'Not how I'd want to be remembered.' He shrugs his broad shoulders. My chest pulls. I do agree with him. I have bigger ambitions. Bigger targets. The entire Republic for staters. By the time I'm done with this galaxy, endorsing a product won't even be a foot note. 'Might as well check it out. No promises though.' Before I know it, Mako has pushed me aside and is plotting course for Quesh.

Thanks XD

Later, while docked briefly on Nar Shaddaa for no reason... ---- 'So, what do you think of Torian? Cute, huh?' I momentarily stiffen and stop half way through my thirty eighth morning push up. But then I quickly continue. I glare hard into the steel floor under me. Don't remember ever allowing her to come into my room. And I don't think cute is the word I would apply to Cadera. I don't look at Mako as she moves from the door way to my bed, sitting cross legged on the corner. Definitely don't remember inviting her in. I don't reply. And after a particularly long, hostile silence she continues oblivious. 'I like him. I was thinking I might make a move on him. What do you think?' 'Over that punk on Nar Shaddaa already? Someone bounces back quick. Though you did spend four weeks crying into your gizka toy at night...' I lie still a while on my back and then make my way to the weights in the corner of the room. 'Hey! How do you know about that?' I don't reply and just smirk at her weak, blushing form. 'Whatever. Anyway, what do you think?' 'I think you're mistaking me for someone who cares. Do whatever you want. I'm not your mother. Just don't do it on my ship.' She giggles. The sound is annoying and makes me scowl. 'Do you think I have a chance?' I drop the weights onto the ground and turn to her slowly. 'How the **** would I know? Go ask the stupid Mando punk, Mako. **** you're annoying.' I pick up my blaster and walk out of my room. I pass Cadera at my doorway. Seems I'm popular tonight... I smirk at him and as I walk past I carelessly say, 'wanna come kill some Black Suns?' I heard him standing there five minutes ago. I know he heard almost everything. And I'm not sure how that makes me feel. He silently follows, picking up his tec-staff as we make our way off the ship. When we return, an angry Mako is waiting for me. And I think about killing her. ----

On the ship ----- When I return to the ship, I wash my hands. And put on my armour. I give orders to Gault to set course for Nar Shaddaa. He's more than a little thrilled to hear it. I can tell Mako's angry with me. Touchy girl. She hides in her room and storms past me in the corridors. Don't think she liked me ruining her time with Cadera and stealing the blonde punk from her. Didn't mean to. But I did want to... But she'll come round. I figure I'll wait for it in my room. I have mail. It's Mandalore. '... I understand Jicoln's boy is with you now. Take care of him. He's got a legacy to carry on.' I sit. Still and unmoving, repeating the words over. Hours pass. I think Mako does come in at some stage. But I stay still. Something stops my body from moving. My mind thinks of things to say to her but they never leave my mouth. I'm sending the messages but it doesn't happen. 'Take care of him.' As if he would ever let me. Not running a day care center. But I keep reading it again, the letters burned onto my eye. I suppose it's what people called 'stunned'. It's in uncomfortable thought. But it has trapped my mind. A large part of me wants to move. Find a new place to go. Get some more credits and seek my revenge. There's a galaxy out there I want to see. Because I am finally free. After many long years I am free. Hunted. But free. Yet I stay. And sit. I am caged and petrified by a few words. And a boy. Gault comes and goes. I start to move. Push ups. Stretches. Weights. My body is aching dully as it tears itself apart. But I still think. About a lot and nothing. Part of me that I don't recognise, that I refuse to recognise, is blissful. And it chatters. Yet I refuse to listen. Thinking everything and hearing nothing. And so night comes. And I sleep. In my dreams, I am killing men. When I wake, I am in the cockpit. A blaster in my hand.

Title: Hypocrite Class: Sith Warrior Author: EverSteam Link: http://www.swtor.com/community/showthread.php?t=538834

Title: Hypocrite Class: Sith Warrior Author: EverSteam Link: http://www.swtor.com/community/showthread.php?t=538834 Enjoy

Yayayay! Finally one bit more So happy! Btw, love how Quinn got Vette to do what he wanted

Just wanted to say I really enjoyed this I look forward to seeing more form you

Taris: Cantina 3/3 Once I leave the complex, I am chilled by the night. I look to the sky. It is starless. My right hand hurts. I look down at it. Blood is seeping from four crescent shaped cuts. I drop it to wave by my side and slowly walk up a ramp to the higher level. I leave a trail behind. The stores are closed and shady figures move in the dark. I sit down at a stims vendor stall. I decide not to take anything for awhile. I feel empty. It is comforting to see something flowing from me. To know there is still something living in there. I want to bleed to know I'm still alive. I haven't bled in a long time. Do they even train people to use blasters anymore? I didn't even know if I still had blood. I could never bring myself to see. I think of Mako and Cadera still in the cantina. I wonder if I destroyed their night... I decide not to deny myself the feeling of hope that I did. On an impulse, I write on the steel ground. I smile at the message and lie on my back. It is nice to feel the cold on my skin. Been too long since I took my armour off. Guess this is what happens when you live for suffer. And live for revenge. I pull my blaster out. I shoot out to the stars. 'Pow.' I watch the laser bolt disappear. 'What if' seems to be written in the stars tonight. I hold the gun, arm straight, eye along the line. My thumb plays with the engraving underneath. It's smeared with blood. His body is firm against mine. I press my finger on the trigger. Bullseye. A tiny hole is left in the small red circle in the middle of rings of colour. I giggle and turn in his arms. I jump up and down. 'I did it! I did it!' 'You did, you did. You win. I concede, I concede.' He laughs and smiles down at me. 'But it is harder to shoot when the red circle is another man's head.' I pout. 'I could do it! I could kill a man. I am not scared! I could be a Sith Warrior. Or a bounty hunter!' 'Don't think you'd be much of a bounty hunter. You would have to travel the galaxy just to kill a man. It's beyond you.' He pinches my cheeks. It is a derisive act of a father to a young kid. My heart beats a potent rage at it. 'You're too sweet to kill anyone.' He underestimates me. 'Just you watch, General.' I back flip away and aim the gun playfully at his head. 'POW!' I say. 'You're dead.' I smile. He moves quickly to disarm me. I am on the ground and his hand is at my neck. I pout. Again. He smiles and releases me. Sitting with elbows on his knees next to me. Close to me. My back hurts. And my hand. I am angry. The annoyance of a spoilt child. 'I want you to teach me how to do that now! I want to be able to protect myself.' He smiles at me. 'What about others? Or don't you like anyone else?' Always smiling. 'I like you. That's enough.' I think a little, though. I chew my lips and they drip blood. But I continue to do it. It hurts. I remember thinking others don't matter. They don't deserve life. It is funny how the innocent can see so clearly. At times. 'I want to protect myself from men. I don't want to be defenceless again.' Darker thoughts creep around my mind. Black memories. No one has ever shown the orphan girl kindness. An unprotected girl can only be used for one thing. I still feel the loathing I learnt to have for soldiers. Their vile drunkenness. I remember every time I was still on the streets too late and I could not run fast enough, cursing them. No one ever helped me. Only watched. I made a list of vendettas. A hit list. I remembered their names. And faces. Their time would come. And I had seen their wars and the brutalities people show each other. Men show other men. No. There is no honour in the world. No kindness. The Empire and Republic are the same. And then he leans over and kisses me. 'Then first things first... my perfect little killer.' His eyes are clear. They see me. And they smile. Small shadows dance at their depths. Eyes are gateways to the soul. And I want to see his. Like he sees mine. My hand hurts. Blood has been falling down my arm. A lot. I pull up my sleeve with my free hand and watch it make trials of orange down my arm. I try not to think of the colour. I don't want to know why it's not red. They are orange vines that slither and climb up my arm, weaving between pale short hairs. Protect myself, huh? I lower my arm and lie like a star on the ground. All empty pale skin covered in black. Somehow glowing in the dim night light. Grand Champion of the Great Hunt. I want him to see me now. Strange thoughts I'm having tonight... I think I'll find Gault later. Unless he already went back to the cantina and found some company... We kill time together. Get smashed. But he has never touched me. Tried. Every night. But failed. Sometimes, though, we will sit close as we drink and enjoy the proximity of another. It's nothing sexual. I know Gault doesn't really want me. Just like he doesn't really want any woman. I think it's a tiring charade to have. He never lets it down. I have a feeling there's only one person he loves and wants. So I tolerate his advances. I enjoy those nights too much to kill him yet. Footsteps come. I know them. They bring certain colours to the edges of my vision. I think about rolling away. But that's all I do. Think about it. 'What's up, kid? Can't take the ruff housing? Or wasn't the company stimulating enough?' I smirk a little. My tone is light. I don't have much of a humour. He stops and takes in my star fish form. I casually pull my sleeve down. I don't want him to see that. 'Some shabuir started to bully a woman. Now he's bleeding on the floor. Thought I'd get some air.' He continues to walk closer. Think he found me not shooting him a permission to come and talk. 'Found an interesting trail of blood. Thought I'd follow it. Seem to be making a habit of it.' He's standing over me now. I feel small. An ant. A strong, cold ant. I avoid his eyes. But I feel him smiling. Just a little. In a serious kind of way. 'Don't you just hate it when that happens?' I can't smile. 'Find anything interesting?' He walks casually to the vender stall. I hear a few locks break and a med pack and bandages fall on my chest. I don't move. They make a 'thump' sound as they land. But I don't feel it. 'Possibly have.' He sits down next to me. Elbows on his knees. Close to me. The silence is empty. It's funny, how silences often aren't. It's a little ironic. They are awkward, or comforting, or terrifying. It lengthens. I don't mind. Eventually, the rustling of my movements as I sit up crackle along it like lightening down a lamp post. I start to treat my hand. It hurts. I want to smile. But I have grown tired again of bleeding. You have done your share in the past. 'I want to thank you for the help. Decent of you to let me in on the kill. You didn't have to do that.' His voice is deep. We sit side by side, facing different directions. Close but apart. I look at the space. My message is between us. I think of many things to say in the silence that follows. I suppose he is a little silent. It's a nice change, after Mako and then Gault. Something continues to expand in my chest. I ignore it. Nothing can break my armour. Let it try. 'Just part of the hunt.' He grimaces and nods slightly. 'But I couldn't have found him without you.' It's true. I had a drastically lower chance of finding Jicoln without him. Just meant it would have taken a while longer. He smiles in that serious way again. It's small, but when you look, you can easily see it. I know what it's like to never have someone look close enough. And to be the one that doesn't look at all. 'I was almost glad to help.' I tell myself that's true too. 'I'd say the same. Almost.' It's that silence again. I like it. It's uniquely us. No expectations. No tension. But it's not indifferent. And not quite comfortable. 'I'm looking forward to this. Not everyone gets a chance to fight alongside the Champion of the Great Hunt.' His voice flows deep and strong with pride. Only Cadera could pull off the combination of humility, disbelief and self-satisfaction. 'It's quite an experience, I'll tell you that. So would Mako and Gault. Though accounts would differ.' I lie back down. 'Though I can think of better things for us to do then fight.' I don't smile. He nods his head as if contemplating the positives and negatives of such amusements. It's not a philosophical debate. I can tell he's just going to be our funniest addition yet. 'Something to consider.' And in the silence that follows it seems like he has already begun considering it. I sigh. A young fool. He stands up finally and moves to attention. 'Just say the word. I'm ready to move out.' Not the direction I had in mind... But I know my advances are hollow. Guess I know I only make them because he won't take me up on it. I climb to my feet as well, as the sun quickly rises. So early already. 'Off to the next **** hole it is.' And so will begin our first adventure as four. Oh what exciting adventures await. I roll my eye to myself and crack my neck. At least it will be interesting. It is different from being alone. Haven't decided if that interesting is better or worse. I stretch a little as he walks away. I look down at my own blood. It hurts : ) 'A little ironic. When you think about it.'

Thanks XD I'm loving your Sith in a Pretty Dress btw, makes me laugh so hard Thanks XD For a while there I was tempted to have a Gault thing going in this story too, and then Torian appears leading to awkwardness... but I couldn't do that to Torian XD that and then Mako might of tried to move in even more

Taris: Cantina part 2/3 'I don't like thi- yup, definitely don't like this'. I quickly glare at Gault. I don't turn straight away. I listen to the sound of the man's breathing and footsteps. I memorize them, measure the distance, decide his strength. 'Thought you would be harder to get the drop on'. I know the voice. I had never forgotten. Somewhere, it was filed away in my memory. And it came to near things best left in the dark. Covered in clothes and armour. 'Hi Cutie.' I slowly turn around. I make no move for my gun. I won't need it. 'I was just eager to see you again after Dromund Kaas'. I don't smile. I don't remember how sometimes. He lowers his arm wearily. I knew he would. Predictable. 'You what-' I disarm him easily. And then I do smile. I know how to do this. I know how to take joy in this. It creeps from my chest through my body. The savage darkness. I almost reach for his neck. But his blue eyes look into mine. They pierce through the shadows. They see beyond. I am shocked. And scared. 'Men...' He will not see me again. 'Time to tell me what you're doing here' 'Ow - I deserved that.' He sounds casual. Not a man that just pointed a gun at my head. I like that. I pull him to his feet. He massages the back of his head and neck. Gault's voice breaks through my trance. I had forgotten him. Not easily done. 'You like him. If I tried that, I'd be wearing my face on the back wall.' My lips twitch uncertainly at the memory. Gault's eyes and voice were amused then. He doesn't look at me now. 'I don't like anyone.' Not for a long time. I want another drink. 'Not you. Not Mako. And not that punk Mandolorian.' I gave up hoping for good in people a long time ago. I don't know why I bother drinking anymore. Force of habit. I haven't been able to get drunk in almost a decade. Almost a decade... I grunt and take one of the four that's for the table. In my mind, I can hear Mako's laughter, I can see Cadera's smile. I look at Gault. He is laughing. The notes lost in music, voices, and bangs. I don't like anyone. Strange thoughts I'm having tonight. Too many memories. Over the chaotic noise, a man shouts. He calls to some woman. The sounds wash over me. 'I don't like anyone.' Gault continues to laugh. My foot hooks the stool and I pull it from under him. His fall doesn't create a ripple. I laugh at him and pull out my blaster. My memento. I point it at his head. He looks me in the eye. His mouth twitches. Doesn't look as good on him. Am I joking? His eyes are sightless. They aren't his. I throw my blaster on the counter and lean over. My gloved fingers grab the first bottle they feel. It's a little warm, but looks good. I move to take it back to the booth. I pick up the tray with glasses. They tinkle. Gault reclaimed his thrown. No one ever sees. The man is calling to the woman louder. My eyes glaze around the dim room. I see him. Large. Dark and ruffled hair. Unshaven and reeking of human. He is drunk. And a soldier. He is looking at me. Calling to me. I ignore him. I look to Gault. 'Say that again and the Hutt's will hear you're alive.' When I turn back around, the man is standing in the middle of the dance floor. 'Come here sugar and share those drinks with me.' He is shouting. The music slows and voices whisper. I feel Gault slip away. Typical. I see Mako across the room reach under her skirt for a hidden vibro knife and medpacs. Cadera has moved to the end of the booth. He watches. I avoid his eyes, motioning for them to stay cool. The glasses clatter in a tune as I place the tray and bottle back on the counter. The bartenders gone. Typical. I grab my gun and point it at him. I take swift aim on the small red medal on his uniform. It's for honour. A dark rage runs through me. 'Put that toy down hon', and I'll give you a bigger gun to play with.' I put the blaster pistol back in the holster. It is hard against my thigh. I slowly remove my leather gloves and tuck them into my belt. My hands are soft. The metal knuckles catch the lights. Small rainbows set on silver. Nails long. Sharp. I stalk them slowly. My last targets. I walk to him quietly. The music starts. Sound begins again. Cautious and uncertain. They are reeling drunk down a street and looking for some women to ****. I slip down a side street and come out in front of them. I stroll up close to him, whisper something in his ear. My hands play from his neck and move down. Long nails from lack of maintenance tickling his pale skin. They slip into his pants. They stop at his groin, gently massaging. He says something about 'coming around'. My grip slowly tightens, more and more. Harder, and harder. My nails dig into his skin until I feel it burst. He gurgles in pain. Tries to form sentences but is too shocked and intoxicated to do more than stand. I remember their faces. I remember their cruel touch. They leer at me. They remember too. They call things and come closer. 'Baby doll.' Moving to form a circle around me. My hands twitch above my blasters. They are perfect and soft. I'm not defenceless. And I will never run again. I dig in and twist once more. Then I let go. I step back at little. I sneer. I stare into his scared and outraged eyes. I feel angry. And powerful. He sinks further down. One leg straight, the other kneeling. He finds in his ****ed up mind some sordid words. They close in. I pull out my gun. A small toy. They back off at first. Wary. But then they laugh. And taunt. I shoot one in the lower torso. He keels over bleeding. It will kill him. Eventually. He shouts for his friends to attack. He's angry. He wants to make me suffer for it. I want him to suffer for me. 'You *********** heartless whore! You fat *********** weak ****.' They all take out knives. Some also have blasters. They shout vile things. Things they will do. Like they haven't already done their worst. I smirk. I disarm them one by one. Ducking and weaving easily. They are clumsy. I am quick. And young. I have not wasted my time with him. He only taught me basics. It amused him. But I have been training for two years. Working through my list in secret. Just a few names left. My fists clench. I walk up to him and punch his jaw. Skin breaks as a nail carves across it. As the metal spikes on my knuckles crush bone. 'I am not weak.' I hit him again. My thumb nail is full of blood and skin. 'I am not a whore.' They are quickly all on the ground. I aim for the areas he taught me. To stop them running. Then my work begins. I make them suffer. And I make them beg like I did. And only then do I kill them. Just like them, I will show no mercy. My fists become tighter. My finger nails dig into my palm. It hurts. And I smile. The last cried. And whimpered. He was the first to ever touch me. And now the last to die. 'Pow.' I aim for his head. His sweaty, red, round head. I hit him again. 'And I am only body type two.' 'You're dead'. I pull the trigger. I pick up the man's gun. A memento. I swing my right leg around in harsh kick that comes down on the back of his head. I spit on him. The sound is loud and echoing in the silence that comes before his screams. His cheek is a jagged gash. I smile down at him. I pull my memento out and aim for the medal on his chest. I shoot. And I leave him to bleed to death. Should take three minutes. I wave goodbye to his dying body bloody fingers as I walk from the cantina. I am surround by dead men. And someone is clapping.