Who You Were, Who You Are

It was already getting late. Well, it would be getting late if that was a phrase that could actually be used while travelling in space... Chronological systems based on time units such as standardized days and hours seemed to lose their meaning while travelling in the hyperspace, crossing the almost incomprehensible distances between stars. At least to him it was when time consisted of moments, some of them shorter, some longer. Right now Atton Rand had spent enough of both of these sitting on the pilot's seat in the Ebon Hawk's cockpit. He'd been stuck there ever since they left Korriban and set their course towards Onderon. There was generally nothing wrong with wasting time by playing pazaak but one could only do such things so long until it got stale. At first it had gotten boring, and after that very boring. Atton had slipped out of his seat in the cockpit and moved to walk the Hawk's corridors without actually giving much thought to where he was heading. He just wanted to stroll around in the ship's now empty and quiet spaces for a change. The ship was probably at its best during the nights, when everyone was usually sleeping except for him. Well, T3, that little trashcan of a droid didn't sleep, but even if he didn't like the droid, the machine was quite tolerable when compared to some of those he had to share this ship with.

It was something of a luxury that he could be alone, be rather freely occupied in his thoughts like this. He didn't have to expect that evil schutta Kreia to come haunting him or that idiotic wannabe-perfect Jedi Mical popping up in some doorway. That kid should be the fool on this ship, if anyone. But then again, because it was the old witch who had come up with the not so inspiring name it had to be him, Atton, who would be called that all the time. Maybe the more or less openly demeaning and despising glances he got from the two wouldn't be so annoying if he didn't himself in some level believe that he deserved them... Not that he would ever think that Kreia or Mical were better than him or had any right to judge him on anything, that was not the case. These particular persons were so irritating that he would probably be much happier person if he never had to see either one of them again. Still it was not about them as much as it was about something else, really... Their comments and silent expressions managed to dig into something he would rather have left forgotten within the shadiest depths of his mind. They made him go over those same things again and again, and that was something he truly hated. He could admit it to himself, even though he was now supposed to be a Jedi and past hating altogether. At least he was supposed to act like a Jedi and do his best to become at least some kind of a Jedi. Still honestly, deep down he'd have to ask if someone like him could ever be anything but a mockery of a Jedi? Getting to ponder these things was another thing he hated.

Atton found his way in the Hawk's cargo hold and sat on an empty storage box. Sometimes he truly wished he hadn't gotten into that force cage on Peragus just because things would be so much simpler if it and all the things that followed had never happened. Maybe he would be sipping juma on Nar Shaddaa right now, if he hadn't gotten in to all this in the first place. Drinking juma did certainly sound good compared to what he was doing now. Getting to rethink anything or even pondering on something that might hint that way often had him regret a lot of things, and that was something he didn't want to do. It was probably another thing he hated, so much he preferred ignoring and forgetting to regret. He didn't know how much of his past he would change if he had a chance. Drawing any lines or figuring things out were impossible when it came to this particular subject. However he couldn't change the past even if he wanted to, and feeling guilt for things he'd done didn't change what had happened. He just didn't want to go back there. It was simply better to put some things off your mind than to keep mulling them over and over, as nothing good would ever come of it anyways. Well, on that matter, it was difficult to imagine that anything good would ever come of anything, in his case at least. Though there were those of whom he could certainly imagine that despite his usually pessimistic attitude.

She was someone who could change both the individuals and the entire Galaxy for better, Atton sincerely believed so. Though once exiled from the Order, she was something that could make almost anyone have faith in the Jedi once more, no matter how few of them were left and no matter how uncertain the Order's future seemed. She was truly something, she saw the things as they were, and still always did the right thing. She followed the Light subtly but firmly in her every decision and deed, and for that he admired her. The goodness that radiated from her was so unlike that of Mical's, who just blindly repeated the teachings of the Jedi and kept preaching them pretty much only to annoy everyone. Not to mention how irritating it was to watch the kid tailing her, fawning her and acting as if he existed only to be her perfect and forever loyal little servant of the Light. She must have had some unique Force power that made it possible for her to tolerate that mynock sucking up at her. Much to his dismay, he knew that she managed to tolerate Mical incredibly well, for she spent considerable times together with him, talking and meditating with this 'Disciple'. Why would anyone call himself that anyway? Frack, it was just stupid. ...But no, he didn't want to think about Mical.

Atton stood up and continued his aimless walk around the ship to shake every thought of the younger man off his head. It was the Exile who intrigued him. She was so special, he couldn't compare her to any other woman he had ever met. Well, maybe except to... But he didn't want to go there, make those comparisons. The Exile seemed to understand the universe around her. It must be some kind of unusual sort of higher wisdom that was still very close to everything mundane. With her everything that was good and right just became so naturally. It was weird how she managed to make him look up to her like this. It was just so strange. Equally weird was that the Exile treated him with casual, friendly respect despite everything she knew. Atton was still a bit amazed that he had told her all that he did when they had visited Nar Shaddaa. And what amazed him more was that even after hearing those horrible and disgusting things he was she didn't ditch him or worse. Instead she accepted him still and even wanted to teach him, to train him in the ways of the Force. It would have been easier for him to understand her if she had killed him for hearing those words. But no, the Exile did as only she would, and as wonderful it was it also scared him inside. It had not been the same to just play pazaak with her or blurt out one of his usual dirty jokes to her after that. It wouldn't be even if Kreia hadn't threatened him with something that would keep him tightly in that old hag's leash.

Atton would rather choose to be controlled by Kreia, no matter how repulsive the whole thought of it was, than to lose the control of himself. He did give great value to his independence, but what he needed even more was to keep the sensitive balance he had been able to construct in his chaotic, confused mind. It was so important, that he would even enslave himself to that sithspawn of a woman for it. And because of this his dislike to Kreia became even worse, or to put it the way it really was, he would hate her just about as much as one can. He hated the way in which the old hag drove him into conflicts with himself, made him insecure, anguished and helpless. She made Atton hate himself, and for that, he hated her too. Still, he had already done quite a fine job with hating himself before ever meeting Kreia, and he didn't seem to be getting away from the habit anytime soon. He did a lot of hating these days. It was nothing new to him, but it must be hell of a lot of hating for a Jedi. Well, that was if he would call himself a Jedi. It was more than difficult for Atton to consider himself one, even if a part of him wanted to be just that, to commit himself to doing the decent thing for a change. Still, there was the other part of him that kept telling him that he wasn't capable of it, not even remotely fit for the job. This part of him had a screaming voice that often overshadowed everything else in his head. The voice's message was easily understood too, as he knew that there was plenty of proof to support its claims.

Considering the nature of the current thoughts on his mind didn't do much to convince Atton to think anything positive about his success in his Jedi training. The very fact of how quickly and smoothly his thoughts slipped to something dark worked as an excellent example of how well he was doing. It was so frustrating. He was so sick of all this struggling but going nowhere. He was once again back to going through those same things, things that were gnawing on him. Hell, if non-material things, ideas that existed only in thoughts and words could eat anyone alive, this must be close to it... All of a sudden Atton came to realize where he had wandered in the ship. He was at the portside dormitory, wondering how he got himself in the relatively large dark room at the Hawk's side. But there he was, staring down at the only other person in the dark room, the sleeping Exile. What in the name of the Force was he doing in there?

Atton was a bit ashamed to be watching the Exile like this. It was awkward and still he couldn't stop doing it, or just leave. He stepped back to the door, but only to lock it and to turn off the room's security camera. Why should anyone be watching him, or either of them for that matter? It was more than enough that he had to feel Kreia's dead eyes on his back all the time. He wouldn't have anyone take this moment from him, no matter how pathetic it might be. He had so little time with the Exile anymore, now that she was busy saving the Galaxy and he had to stick in 'the Hawk's cockpit taking care of the ship. The rest of the time was stolen from them, mostly by those whom he disliked the most, by those whom he just simply hated. He wouldn't give away any of this. Atton kept his eyes fixed on the Exile, watching how her blanket settled over her alluring figure. He admired how peaceful her breathing was while she dreamed. She was so beautiful, so delicate, and so fragile.

She reminded him of someone from the past, bringing back everything that had happened. In its own sick way, all that mixed so well with this day. What he had done back then and what he had been back then... Despite Atton didn't even want to think about it, it kept drifting in his mind. There was this amazing female Jedi, and the unspeakable things he did to her. Then the feelings he got from doing what he did, he remembered them all too well. There couldn't possibly be anything like that; nothing could feel either more fantastic or more horrible. All this wouldn't be of the past, if she hadn't shown him the Force, changed his world for good and dipped his balance irreparably. Because of this he had felt for her like for no one before and killed her in a nasty way. Now there was the Exile, another unbelievable Jedi woman. She had him open up about his past and built him a connection to the Force. ...And she had made him come staring at her when everyone else was sleeping. He shouldn't do something like this, he shouldn't want to. He shouldn't want her either, since he could never have her.

There were those who wouldn't let anything like that happen, not ever. They would keep him away from her and her away from him, and again he hated them for that. Even if there were no one to keep them apart she wouldn't have him. He could never be enough for the Exile, and yet there were things about him that were way too much for her. She knew what he had been and he couldn't even imagine what that made the Exile think of him. Her words of forgiveness could not convince him on anything. He wondered if she knew how everything that had happened back then still affected him. How he still felt those things within him, like he'd felt ever since he had met her. All this had become much more confusing after he had started his training with the Force. The voices in his head had become much louder and the feelings they aroused more real. It was as if the past wasn't so far away anymore, but present in everything he did. Atton felt the past in the Exile as he watched her.

He couldn't help seeing the echoes of his own past in her, and that was what Kreia used to extort and threaten him. She made Atton squirm with images of turning him into what he had once been, and turning the Exile into that other Jedi woman she resembled so much, to the one he had so appallingly killed. This would keep him away from the Exile forever. And really, he had to admit that he did worse things to that woman than killing her. Could he do all that again to the Exile? He wouldn't because there wasn't going to be anything but maybe an occasional game of pazaak between them, everything was different back then. Back then with that female Jedi, he could do what he wanted. And he did a lot of things that would make just about anyone sick. In those times no one could take that Jedi woman from him. He could indeed have her, and he had loved the way it made him feel. If he actually could, would he do those same things to the Exile? If there was nothing and no one to hold him back would he make the Exile scream like that? He could make her cry of fear, pain and maybe for something else. Maybe she would enjoy it as much as he did, just maybe she would want it too.

A drop of sweat ran down Atton's back, and could feel his shirt sticking on his back. He wiped his face on his hand and took off his favourite ribbed jacket, letting it drop on the floor. He took a step closer to the sleeping Exile. She was so calm, so in peace, so beautiful. She usually kept her shoulder-length hair tied back on a simple ponytail, but now the sand-coloured locks were waving freely on her pillow. Some were hanging on her face, shadowing her eyes and calling him to gently stroke them away. Again he stepped closer, now feeling her soft breath on his face as he kneeled by her bed. Why did the old witch want to take the Exile from him? He couldn't have Kreia extort him on that one thing. He wouldn't have anyone denying him what he wanted so desperately, what he needed. If it was truly him giving the hag the possibility to tamper with his head by trying to endlessly fight what he had been in the past, couldn't he then also free himself from her clutches just by taking that away from her? She couldn't threaten him with promises of making him what he had once been, if it was actually so that he had been the same person all the time, could she? The Exile had told him, that the Jedi teach that peaceful acceptance of ourselves, of what we are will make us whole. There was truth to those words; he knew that only by coming to terms with his past he would end the conflict within himself. But even more powerful truth lay in the teachings he still remembered from the times back then. It was something that cleared the present situation in his mind, made him understand. By following his passions, through them one will find way to break his chains.

Atton leaned still a little closer to the Exile. He reached towards her to brush away those few stray hair from her face. The tips of his fingers touched the soft skin on her temple just a bit, but enough to wake her from her sleep. She opened her eyes and blinked in surprise. 'Atton?' She called out his name in a sleepy voice. His hand slid down from her face and found a grip around her wrist. Just as he saw the Exile lift her head from the pillow the fingers on Atton's other hand closed on her throat. No one would take her from him now, not anymore. Besides that nothing would matter, not even the future. The feelings he had before tried to suppress and bury were no longer mere memories, they rushed back to him in such a power that he couldn't stop himself even if he tried. It was just amazing. He didn't want to stop, for this was how it was supposed to be. He no more cared about Kreia or Mical; only the Exile mattered to him. She was everything he needed, and now finally she would be all his. Their eyes locked as he used the weight of his own body to nail the Exile's back on the mattress. Atton saw the shock and fear in her always before so courageously defiant and playful eyes. Now he knew that he truly loved her. His grip tightened on her throat. He wouldn't allow her to scream, not just yet.