Cleansing breath

Sephir Tal sat on the deck of the Ebon Hawk across from her mentor, Kreia. She kept her eyes closed and her breathing even. The only sounds were the droning of the lightspeed engines, her own deep breathing and the old woman's voice with its whispery rasp.

"Empty your thoughts. And listen," Kreia chanted. "Past the surface thoughts, let your mind slip deeper ...."

She struggled to do as Kreia said, becoming frustrated with her own inability to clear her mind. The most basic skill an apprentice is taught, she had mastered this years before. She tried to let go of all her emotions, her frustrations and fears, to let them slip away like water through her fingers. She used to do this without thinking.

There is no emotion, she reminded herself. There is peace.

She couldn't let Kreia know what it was that frustrated her so, the source of her current turmoil. Kreia would never understand, and the backlash of words and scorn would only make the situation worse. There were times she really regretted agreeing to allow the woman to help her re-establish her connection to the Force. But then with half the Sith army out to kill her it would have been foolish to say no. The battle called, and General Tal was needed again. Perhaps for the last time.

There is no passion, there is serenity.

What a crock.

Her sudden, scornful thought surprised her. Her rush of anger at the simple statement was worrisome. Why was she so feeling so resentful? These feelings were wrong, the temptation of the dark side calling her, using her own confused emotions and desires against her.

These were the truths of Jedi existance, ones she had embraced and dedicated her life to years ago. How many years? She took a moment to consider, realizing she had forgotten how long ago she had joined the Jedi. So young, so idealistic. Those sacrifices seemed so minor back then. A life of discipline, of control, of chastity.

A lot of good those so called truths did you on back on Onderon, the voice in her mind sneered. Her brow creased, fighting back the sudden rush of memories she had fought so long to bury. Of the mandalorian men, their hands beating her brutally. Tearing at her robes. Their leader's huge fist as he struck her again and again, forcing her to look at him, to sense his vicious, bloodthirsty lust when he forced himself on her. While his men watched, cheering him on.

"Exile."

Kreia's voice snapped her out of her thoughts, and she discovered she was almost hyperventilating. Her brow was covered in sweat and her hands were balled so tightly into fists that her fingernails were cutting into her palms.

"I'm sorry, Kreia," she quickly apologized."Old memories. I shall attempt to focus."

Kreia merely nodded. She knew the old woman was staring at her with those all white, sightless eyes even though she wouldn't look up to face her mentor.

"Old demons," Kreia intoned."Brought back by current stimulus. You must be cautious, Exile."

"They are old wounds," Sephir waved a hand dismissively. "Something I've learned to live with."

"You think me so old and blind that I cannot see the obvious?" Kreia asked, her tone sharpening. "No, Exile. There is only one fool on this ship, and I am not he. "

Sephir felt her shoulders tense again, new anger rising at Kreia's words." Look, I told you before, lay off of Atton. He's trying to help us out, I think he at least deserves courtesy."

"Courtesy? No, Exile. You can lie to yourself but not to me so easily," Kreia rose to her feet slowly. "You think I do not sense your anger when I speak ill of him? You think I have not noticed the way your pulse quickens when he enters the room?"

"Don't," Sephir snapped, rising to her feet as well." Don't go there, Kreia. "

"You desire him, exile," Kreia continued, scorn dripping from her voice." You allow yourself to be taken in by his attentions, his play of words and gazes. The way he insists on standing far closer to you then is needed just to see you flush like some imbecile portside bar wench."

"I'm warning you," she whispered hoarsely, her hands clenching at her sides in rising anger.

"These feelings he stirs inside you, they've awakened the old memories," Kreia began to circle her slowly, like an old kath hound circling a dying iriaz. "memories of degradation, of shame.....of the monsters that men become when they give in to their passions."

"I know what you're trying to do old woman, " Sephir's voice lowered to a dangerous growl."Although I fail to see the point of this."

"You would be a fool too, would you?" Kreia stopped her pacing, coming to a halt behind Sephir. The old woman's raspy whisper seemed to go right into her brain, bypassing her ears all together " Do you know what kind of monster this man is? Do you know what lurks behind those lustful glances, those smiles so full of promise? He told you, did he not? What he had done to your kind, what he would be capable of doing to you? Or is that what you want? Perhaps the mandalorians awoke something inside you, a darker need..."

"Enough!" Sephir snapped, a bit louder then she intended. She fought the urge to strike out at the old woman, and instead spun on her heel and strode out of the dormitory.

She reached the cargo hold in seconds, passing a curious Bao-Dur on her way. Thankfully, he had the sense not to ask her what was wrong, but gave her a knowing look as she rushed past him.

She hit the door latch, shutting the door behind her and pacing rapidly across the hold as she fought to regain control of her emotions. She was far too scattered, too emotional, to do anyone any good. The serenity, the control she once knew were just beyond her reach, tantalizingly close but always beyond her grasp. Too many things got in the way. Her memories of her treatment at the hands of the old Mandalore, her fear of this new Sith threat, her anxiety about Kreia and what her true motives might be.

Her mind played with Kreia's last words, her suggestion that she somehow enjoyed her defilement at the hands of the old Mandalore. That she felt attraction for Atton because she wanted him to do those things to her, to re-live those painful, horrific memories. How dare she suggest those things? What was her goal in doing so? Was she trying to re-create the shame those memories stirred in her? Drive her to embrace the dark side, all the while warning her against the cost of such emotions? Poison her with the very darkness she cautioned her to be wary of?

Why was she staying with Kreia? Her fears about the old woman were becoming more and more substantiated every day. But she knew why, knew the selfish reason she continued to learn from Kreia, even though she feared her. Because Kreia was the only one who could give her what she needed. Who could help her re-connect to the Force, that power she had lost back on Malachor V. She struggled with her desire for it, both wanting it so badly and fearing it so greatly, with all the joy and pain she knew it could bring her. She had walked blind for far too long, and the promise of new sight both frightened and excited her, making her long for it, but wary of it as well. Like her feelings for Atton.

She tensed up anew at the thought of her scoundrel comrade. Anger clenched her gut as she thought of how he had tricked her in the kinrath caves, how foolish she felt when she realized he had played her like that, made her show her feelings for him when she shouldn't even acknowledge them. Angry at how wonderful that kiss had felt, how much she longed to do it again. Damn him, anyway! She should've left him locked up in that cage on Peragus.

No, that wasnt fair. He had been a tremendous help so far. And everytime he almost convinced her he was the self serving, shallow, swindling scoundrel everyone saw him to be, he would do something brave, something tender, and show just a hint of the soul that lie behind those laughing dark eyes of his. Just enough to make her want to get closer to him, get another step further past the armor of sarcasm and lechery he hid behind.

Sometimes she thought the Force played cruel games with her. All those years after Malachor V, all those years in exile, she had roamed the Outer Rim and lived any way she could. No rules, no council, nothing keeping her from doing as she pleased. She took odd jobs to survive, moved from place to place so she didn't get too close to anyone, and took occasional comfort in a one night stand. It didn't matter. Her vows had been forcibly broken, and the council had cast her aside. A defiled and broken Jedi, no longer even able to touch the Force.

But then the Harbinger came along, coaxing her back to the Republic that she had defied the Order to go to war and protect as she had sworn. And then she ended up on Peragus, where Kreia would begin her re-birth into the Force. She had been so thrilled at that first touch of power, of sight. Like a sunray through a dirty and broken window, the filthy jagged edges glinting in that small ray of light. It was the promise of re-birth, something she had secretly longed for all those cold, empty years.

And then she walked into that security room and met him.

He couldn't just be handsome, in his rugged, scruffy sort of way. Tall and leanly muscled, tousled brown hair and those eyes, they sparkled with mischeif and promise of good times to be had. No, he had to be clever too. Funny and sarcastic, skilled with his hands and a blaster, his sharp wit making her smile despite the dangers they faced. And on Telos station, when he had tried to goad that assasin into fighting him in order to protect her, surprising her with that sudden show of selfless bravery. He was brave under all that cynicsm, foolhardy perhaps, but brave and valiant in a roguish sort of way.

If she had met him in some cantina on the Outer Rim, before her re-connection to the force, she would have gladly drug him off to a rented room and showed him the time of his life. It was almost comical, when he made his comments about how Jedi are supposed to be so chaste. If only he knew what she was thinking when she looked at him. She tried to imagine his face if he did, smiling to herself as she did so. She wasnt the chaste little virgin he imagined her to be, not anymore. But it was amusing that he thought so. She had taken lovers just to force herself to accept that part of her nature, to not allow her attackers to victimize her more then they already did. To win the battle for her soul they had tried to take from her that horrible night on Onderon.

She certainly wasn't blind to the chemistry between them, the desire that was just under the surface of every glance, every touch. He exuded it, with his lecherous looks and easy banter. But she could sense more to it then that, every so often a flicker of his passion for her would shine through his hidden thoughts. The concern he tried to hide in his eyes when she was injured, the jealousy so evident in his face and body language when she spoke with Mical. If she ever put her mind to it, she knew he would be an easy target for a seduction. Possible the fastest one on galactic record. As soon as he got over the shock of finding out she wasn't the innocent little flower he seemed to imagine her to be.

But not with Kreia around. Somehow, the old woman always showed up just as she was almost reaching Atton. Whenever they found a moment to be alone, to talk, to play a hand of Pazaak....Kreia would materialize. She would stroll in, Atton's mask of indifferent lechery would fall back into place and the walls around his mind would seal up tighter then a Wookie war drum. He would move just a bit away from her, he would avoid her eye contact. Find some reason to slink off back to the cockpit, to seal himself away. It was especially evident after his revelation about his past to her on Nar Shadaa.

They had argued. Gods, how they had fought that day. She still winced inside from it, thinking of the anger and hurt that passed between them. How hard she had to fight to get him to let it out, to open up and stop hiding from her. To let her help him come to terms with his pain. He had done everything he could think of to push her away, aside from doing it physically. And there were a few times she was almost afraid he would strike out at her. But she knew if she didn't push back, keep pushing, Atton would be lost. Lost and never able to cross that chasm that loomed before him. He would fall, and never hit bottom.

But when he did, when he allowed her to show him the way, to awaken himself to the force at long last, it had been worth every moment. Every tear. Every curse. For that one moment, she had glimpsed the person behind the walls, the hesitant light, the flinch of power. Like a wounded animal that needed to be nurtured back to health, one that the galaxy had left to die in its own festering wounds with no one to care for it. And underneath it all, that spirit that fought to live on, no matter how desperate the struggle. An unbreakable spirit that drove itself on pure will power, pure determination.

He was fascinating. Deadly and beautiful, wild and untamed. Someone who needed so badly, but desperate to prove to the universe he needed nothing but himself.

In him she saw a kindred spirit, another wounded being who had been abused at the hands of others. Someone she could feel at ease with, someone who could see her in all her broken-ness and still make her feel wanted. An equal, she didn't have to be teacher, jedi, savior or general around him. She could be just a woman, just Sephir.

Despite the darkness that she knew still lived inside of him, somehow when she was alone with him she felt at ease. Relaxed. Somehow, she knew she didn't have to be the leader, pretend she had all the answers when she felt as overwhelmed and frightened as the rest of the crew. He treated her as an equal, was never afraid to disagree with her or question her decisions. He would give her a bad time just as much as he would anyone else, even after she began training him in the force. When he called her 'master' there was always an underlying humor to it, a hint of playful suggestion to the term.

And he was almost her equal in battle. When she sparred or trained with the others in lightsaber combat, she would always hold back, be cautious, not really let go on them, even though she insisted that they use practice swords at first to avoid unnecessary injury. Atton had been trained in multiple forms of combat, he handled a blade like one born to it. She would find herself letting go with him, cutting loose and it became a challenge to best him. He was cunning and quick, and in his own subtle ways, she realized that he was teaching her too. Throwing different attacks at her from his Echani training, to see if she could counter it. If she couldn't, he would stop just short of really giving her a good whack to learn from.

She respected him, and if she thought too much about what he had been, she supposed she should fear him. But something in his eyes, his manner, told her that he would never hurt her. She forced herself to think about it now, to imagine what would happen if he fell back to the darkside. She thought about what it would be like, if she had to fight him in a real battle. What it would be like if she had to kill him. Was that why he would throw those attacks in? His way of showing her what he could do, so that if that time ever came she would be able to kill him? Could she bring herself to do it?

She didn't believe she could, so she vowed to never allow that to happen. No matter what it took to save him from himself.

"What are you doin in here?" a familiar deep baritone asked from behind her.

She looked over her shoulder to see Atton standing behind her at the cargo hold door. She had been so wrapped up in her thoughts she hadn't even heard him open the door.She allowed herself a moment to just look at him, allowed herself to let those feelings she had for him wash over her. She couldn't resist it, it didn't want to, even though her mind told her she should. Her heart, she realized, stubbornly

refused to listen.

"Oh hey Atton," she replied, giving him a welcoming smile. "I didn't hear you come in. What are you doing?"

"Just came in to recharge my ammo packs at the workstation," he held up the empty clips he had in his hands as evidence. "I thought you were in with Kreia. Isn't it 'teaching hour' with the old scow?"

"Yeah, well," she shrugged, sheepishly scratching her head. "We got into an argument and I left."

"Tsk, tsk tsk," he waggled a scolding finger at her. "No arguing with the all mighty master. Bad padawan!"

"I couldn't help it," she objected defensively."She really pissed me off this time."

His mouth fell open in mock surprise. "Young lady! What have I told you about such language? You're supposed to be a jedi, an example to all of us lost souls in the galaxy!"

She told him what he could do with his lost soul, and he chuckled as he went over to the workbench.

"You've been hanging around the likes of me too long, General Tal," he scolded. "I'm a bad influence on you."

"Heh, that's so like you, Rand," she snorted." Let's just forget about the fact that I served four years in a war surrounded by pilots, soldiers and techs. Or the fact I've lived another five out on the Outer Rim with smugglers, spice runners, and bounty hunters. No, let's give all the credit for my corruption to you."

He glanced back at her over his shoulder, as if eyeing her in a re-appraising manner. She could almost hear the wheels turning in his brain." You know, you are a bit rough around the edges for a jedi at that. Must be what I like about you."

"Oh really?" she replied, placing a hand on her hip. "Here I thought it was my lingerie."

His eyes sparkled with a look of sheer lechery. " That too."

"You're such a lech," she laughed, shaking her head."Must be what I like about you."

"Oh really?" he replied, leaning against the workbench and putting his hand on his hip in perfect mimicry of the way she had done." Here I thought it was that I was such a good kisser."

He was rewarded with a flush of pink to her cheeks. She tried to face him down, defiant to the last. "Yeah, well, that too."

His eyebrow quirked up at that response, and she almost shivered from the rush of warm, sensual energy he directed her way. She loved when he looked at her like that, with that passion lurking in his eyes. It made her pulse race. She just wanted to pin him up against the nearest wall and kiss that smirk right off his face.

"So, do I hear you admitting that you liked..."

"Is the ship still on course for Onderon?" Kreia's raspy, commanding voice asked from across the hold. She stepped out of the shadows, her hood hanging just low enough to cover all but the very bottom of her milky white, sightless eyes.

She heard Atton breath a Corellian curseword under his breath, felt his walls slam shut around his mind. For just a moment, she could have sworn that a look of fear showed in his eyes as he turned back to the workbench.

"Just as fast as this old bucket's hyperdrive will carry us," he responded to Kreia's pointed question.

"Good," Kreia's head turned towards Atton's back as he stood at the workbench. She seemed to be just staring at him, and Sephir felt just the slightest warp in the force coming off the old woman. She was doing something to him, and blocking Sephir from knowing it. Her throat tightened, feeling that anger well up in her again. She had suspected something had occured between Atton and Kreia, after he had confessed about his past to her. The changes in his behavior had been subtle, but still there.

Something was amiss, and she intended to find out what it was. But if she was dealing with what she suspected she was dealing with in the old woman, she would have to move carefully.

"So, Atton," she interuppted, watching him jerk slightly at the sound of her voice as if startled. " We have some time before we reach Onderon, right? How about a few rounds of Pazaak, to pass the time?"

He took a quick, nervous glance back at her. She thought she saw a slight sheen of sweat on his brow, but he turned away too quickly to notice. She did see a look of fear, and apology, in his eyes.

"Naw, I got some things I have to do," he shrugged, his voice sounding as non chalent as always. " Repairs and stuff, and I'm still trying to figure a way to jimmyrig that damn navicomputer."

"Your time would be better served spending it in meditation," Kreia's voice took on a subtle air of persuasion, and Sephir felt a tingle across the bond between them. She wondered how many times she had not noticed it, the subtle machinations. Perhaps because now she was looking for it. "I'm sure your padawan, the young man from Dantooine, would be glad to assist you in that. We both know that on Onderon, there are many memories you will have to face. Some will be difficult, you should prepare yourself, Exile."

Atton twitched at the mention of Disciple, his hands rough as he yanked the ammo clips off the charger and shoved them into his jacket pocket. "Well, back to work then."

Sephir shot Kreia a look of challenge, then walked over to where Atton was heading for the door. She gave him a sharp slap on the backside as he passed her by, making him jump visibly.

"Fine, flyboy. Blow me off then," she teased, shooting him a wide, flirtatious smile. " But you owe me a few rounds later, and I WILL be collecting on them."

"Uhhh yeah.....sure....next time," he shot her a look of surprise, stammering all the while. "I ummm...have to go now..have fun meditating with junior, and all that."

" I'd rather play pazaak, " she called to him as he disappeared towards the cockpit. " But Mical doesn't like gambling."

"Why am I not surprised?" his answer echoed back down the hallway.

She turned back to Kreia, her smile fading as she examined the old woman suspiciously. "Perhaps you are right," she stated coolly. "Perhaps some quiet meditation would be most enlightening."

She walked past her mentor, casting her one last look as she headed off down the hallway towards the med bay.

Breathe, she told herself as she forced her anger down. Deep, cleansing breath.

It was time to get to the bottom of what was really going on around here.