When You're Taught Through Feelings

A/N: A big thank you to Daniel-James for beta-ing this. And the Vrook-Quote is thanks to Winter, AFAIK!

'Three hundred an' fifty credi's, miss,' said the gruff voice of the man piloting the transport. 'Y'know, th' ones ya promised.' He eyed her, not trusting the dark-haired woman standing before him. She looked like she should have been a Jedi, but there was something missing. He'd seen Jedi before, though from afar, and he saw them in a strange light, almost as if a glow, an aura, were surrounding them. Some Force power or other, he guessed. This one looked like the next idiot he could cheat money out of. Namely, the nine hundred he got out of her, in total.

He was unprepared for the gaze she gave him. She wasn't glowing, but there was a weary strength in her eyes, one that reminded him of a Republic veteran on Nar Shaddaa. She nodded slowly, as if just hearing him. She blinked, and then reached into her pocket, drawing out the amount and passing it over. She muttered thanks, and then turned to look at the Jedi Enclave. The man grumbled, counting the credits, then marched back into his ship, preparing to take the remainder of the people inside to wherever they needed to go.

The woman, Delasaer Chval, noted how many of the few Jedi and Padawans and Apprentices glanced at her sadly, seriously, then turned back to their work. They all seemed to know what the Council was going to do, despite the Council trying to keep total secrecy. Their voices were hardly lowered in their room when discussing the Jedi who betrayed them. The ones that had left with Revan and Malak. They were all betrayers, all Sith; whether they left first or last.

Delasaer knew she would be shunned. She would be another dirty secret brushed beneath the sofa for the next rat to come and take her away. Except that she wasn't doing this for them. She wasn't doing this for the Sith, Revan and Malak. She wasn't doing this for anyone but the dead. When she had passed out, the voices screamed to her to confess. They told her to take the blame for their deaths, because no one else would. Everyone else was too afraid. Too guilty.

Strangely, she felt no guilt. She didn't feel loss, or pain, or anything. She didn't even feel the Force, though that didn't matter too much to her. She only noticed that when she tried to lift something that had fallen from her nightstand in the hospital, where she had her two missing fingers, her thumb and her middle finger, replaced with prosthetics. It had throbbed dully the first three days or so, but then, as the effects of the medicine wore off and she recalled all that had happened, everything stopped. She didn't feel the scarring around her eye thud painfully when it rained. She barely blinked when a door closed on her ankle, and then quickly retracted.

If this didn't redeem her from the pool of blood she had dipped her hands into, Delasaer didn't really care what would. This was all she could do. She knew the Force no longer inhabited her. She knew the only thing that made her different from the dead was that she could think and breathe and bleed, even though she didn't feel that.

The Jedi Council. She remembered almost everything about them.

Kavar had been a good friend. He bailed her out of trouble and when she had no choice, he let her help him clean after classes instead of spending time in the dusty library with the wintry Atris. He helped her understand things she usually would never grasp, and taught her little new things that bettered her weak connection with the Force and turned it into a little more than average. He was light-hearted and continued to hold his feet on the ground, trying not to think he was lifted into the sky, above all others with the Force like the rest of the Jedi Masters. He had been like a cross between an older brother and father to Delasaer.

Like all the other little Padawan girls she had a crush on him long ago. It faded off when she grew up and learned to control her emotions, and when she figured out that she and Kavar weren't really compatible in that manner. However, she had still trusted him with her life. He had confessed to her that he would have gone with her to the Mandalorian Wars if it didn't mean that he would lose his spot on the Council. She understood him. If no one else did, he would try to help her, even if he couldn't allow her to remain in the Order.

Atris was a bitter woman, and she had never been on good terms with Delasaer. She always criticized Delasaer's every step and breath. She was like a female Vrook, except this was only towards a select few students, not all of them. Whenever she dared stick her head out of the Archives or the library, it was to tell one of her 'favored' students to fix his or her belt or to comb their hair or to stop talking so loudly. The only key moment of kindness she had presented to Delasaer was when she had helped heal her when she miscalculated a dive from a speeder in her teenage years, and she was almost positive that the Council that had been there -- Vash and Dorak -- had forced her into that.

Delasaer had earned her fair amount of detentions by teasing or making fun of Atris, and Atris had been in trouble many times for losing her temper with Delasaer. They were never friends or close in any manner. The room instantly chilled when they were in each other presence. They learned to tolerate each other, but the cold business manner was considered worse than the insulting, because it lacked the ability to be imitated in a humorous manner. She was a perfect contrast to Kavar, but Delasaer felt she knew her better than she could ever know Kavar.

Delasaer thought about all of this as she stared at the Enclave once more. With the grace of a trained Jedi, she walked into the Enclave, looking at the walls and the people, memory leading her more than conscious thought. A hand suddenly grabbed her shoulder from behind. She instinctively grabbed the person and threw him over in front of her, on his back. He gave a heavy grunt, and forced a breath out. The nearby Jedi helped him up.

'Del! What was that for?' the man exclaimed. Delasaer studied him, then recognized him through the thick eyebrows, beard, and the muscles he'd gained. 'Del? Are you alright? You look a little lost.'

Delasaer gave a half-smile and nodded silently to her best friend, Nathaniel Weidon. Before she could protest he smiled and gave her a strong hug, complete with a back-pat and squeezing the air out of her.

'I'm fine, Niel,' she assured him when he released her. He smiled broadly, then paused.

'You cut your hair,' he stated bluntly.

'Yes, yes I did.'

'Why?' He tugged at one of the ends of her now chin-length hair that was pulled behind her ears, revealing the scarring around her eye, a gift from the mis-calculated speeder dive that couldn't be healed. Her hair used to be at her elbows, but always fell in front of her face, conveniently hiding the damaged tissue. 'Why?' he asked again.

Delasaer waited patiently for him to stop tugging, then gave another half smile and said, 'Practical uses.'

Niel gave a low whistle. 'Wooooow. Delasaer Chval is being practical? I guess being in the war and all really made you responsible, didn't it?' When he realized what he'd said and the silence, he covered his mouth, his eyes wide. 'That's why you're here, isn't it! You're here to meet with the Council! You're the only one!'

Delasaer's eyebrows shot up. 'What do you mean I'm the only one? The others haven't returned?'

Nathaniel shook his head. 'I'll tell you later. We should probably go someplace where we can sit, first. Like the Cantina.'

'Cantina?' she asked.

'Aye. They built one here two years ago. Needless to say, the Council isn't too happy about it,' he said, leading her outside.

She gave a small snort. 'What are they ever happy about?'

Nathaniel stopped and put his hand on her mouth. 'You're very lucky no one but me was here to hear that, alright? They're getting paranoid. Any word of discomfort, and you got your best friend watching you for them,' he snapped quietly, looking around the courtyard cautiously, as if the wind itself might bring their conversation to unwanted ears. He let go slowly.

'I see,' she responded, nodding.

They remained silent the rest of the short walk, thinking. Delasaer knew Nathaniel could be intense and especially cautious, but she'd never seen him like this before. He led her, his heavy Jedi robes probably making him sweat as he walked under the warm sun of Dantooine. His mop of messy, black hair was shifting in the breeze, and his brown eyes focused on the ground before him. There had been a time when she had considered relationships with every young man she knew, Nathaniel included. It was a ridiculous time of her life, and she was grateful that she only had it stored in her own mind and never asked anyone else about it. Back then, she realized, he wasn't as muscular, or as tall. He seemed to have grown while she had been at the war, or maybe just seemed that way because of his cloak. Or...or maybe she just hadn't grown. Delasaer shook her head. They had both grown, mentally and physically, and they were no longer the speeder-crashing teenagers they once were.

A few moments later, they stopped in front of a ridiculously small building that had a cheap wooden sign put up by the side. It said, in thickly painted letters, 'CANTINA'. Niel led her in and sat at a two-person table towards the back. There were many farmers sitting in the pleasantly cooled, but rather tight-spaced room. The barman was nowhere to be seen.

'Is this it?' Delasaer asked needlessly.

'Aye,' Nathaniel gave a chuckle, 'Not much, is it?'

'No, but it's all they can do.' They remained in silence for a moment. 'Where is Mical?' she asked suddenly.

He froze. 'Mical?' She nodded, trying to meet his eyes. 'L-Look, Delasaer, I tried my best to convince him to stay, or to get one of our friends to take him as a Padawan, but no one wanted to because they didn't sense the usual strength of the Force, even though there was a heavy shortage of Padawans...'

'Yes, but where is he?'

'I -- I don't know. The Council sent him somewhere with the Republic, probably to be trained as a soldier. You know the rules. If an Apprentice isn't taken in as a Padawan by the time he's thirteen, they send him off.' He waited nervously for her answer. She was staring off into space out past one of the windows. She had asked -- no, she hadn't asked; she had commanded him, ordered him, made him promise -- to make sure Mical received a good teacher while she was away, and when you promised Delasaer Chval that you'd do something, you did it, or you felt guilty every time she set her eyes on you. Nathaniel had promised, so he was very surprised when all she did was give a small hmmmm.

'What about your Padawan?' she asked in the same even tone.

'M-My Padawan? Del, I can't teach. You know that better than anyone. I didn't take one!' he protested.

'You wanted to. I remember you talking with one of the little apprentices a few years ago. I could tell you wanted to take him as a Padawan.' She sensed him tense beside her. Obviously, something had gone wrong with that plan.

'I...' His face paled. 'He's a Sith now. A Dark Jedi. Just like more than half of the other Padawans and Apprentices.'

Delasaer frowned and put a hand on his shoulder, saying nothing. 'Sorry' wouldn't cover the guilt she felt at that point. When she had left, so many Padawans and Apprentices, and even a few Jedi had followed her. She didn't know why, but many were her friends. Many had died. He took her hand off from his shoulder, holding it for a moment, then setting it on the table.

'I'm fine. Really, I am. It couldn't be stopped. I'm sure there was a reason for it,' he lied. She shook her head, but decided not to remind him that she knew whenever he lied.

Silence for a while longer, while Nathaniel focused on his friend, inspecting her through his eyes and through the Force. She didn't seem to notice. He tried to reach out to her through it, but she didn't respond.

'Del...?' he said quietly, realizing what had happened. She looked up. 'Can -- Can you feel the Force still? Does it continue to run through you?'

'I...can't feel anything, Niel. I can't feel anything,' she said quietly after a long moment. Her eyes looked into his, and he gave an involuntary shiver. She was gone. Delasaer was off the edge, mentally, physically, and spiritually. She was empty. Gone. As good as dead. 'Not the Force. Not my fingers,' she continued, holding up her hand to show him the two prosthetic fingers he hadn't noticed. This time, it was Niel who put his hand on her shoulder, not knowing what to say. She didn't move. 'I don't know what happened. I felt it before...then I woke up in the hospital and it was gone.' She turned to him, her eyes suddenly alive with an uncontrollable flame. 'Please don't tell anyone! If the Council heard, I'd be used like an insect for study! Please, Niel!'

'Don't worry! I won't tell anyone. Just calm down. Del, I've never seen you like this. Are you sure you're ready to face the Council? They'll detect this faster than I can.'

Delasaer nodded. 'They've never seen this before, and they don't know me well enough to figure it out. They won't know.'

Another long silence passed.

'Del...are you sure you're here to speak with them, and not to kill them?' Niel inquired.

His voice was quiet, and they realized that no one else was in the room. Delasaer was about to respond that that was a stupid question, and that she could never lay a finger on the Jedi Masters when she became conscious of the fact that if she had lost touch with the Force like that, chances were, they couldn't use it against her the way they could to someone who had the Force in them. Every living being, she knew, had the Force run through them, marking them as alive, binding them to everything else, even if it could not use the power from it. Delasaer was different. The Force did not live inside her or bind her to anything or anyone. She was just an empty shell, devoid of spirit and emotion. They couldn't harm her through the Force. She could harm them.

But no one said they couldn't team up against her in a lightsabre duel.

Especially now that she no longer had the Force to boost her abilities, she could only rely on practiced movements, training. The Masters would overpower her in seconds. And they had every right to do so, to defend themselves. They wouldn't kill her, but they'd throw her out and tell everyone that she had gone to the Dark Side. Not that they wouldn't make up something equally disturbing now, because it wasn't as if they couldn't sense something amiss with her, but at least they had no proof of anything.

Did she want to kill them?

Yes, said a voice inside her.

No, said another.

Delasaer frowned. There were so many sides that said something different, and each had a valid reason behind it. She stared at her hands. After a while, she shook her head and blinked. She'd seen too much death up to this point. She'd had enough. She wouldn't be the cause of any more. If these were the cards she'd bought, so be it. There was no sense in trying to buy another deck. They all had the same cards, the only difference was the shuffler. She'd brought this upon herself when she defied the orders the Council had given her, the advice her Master had presented her, and the logic her mind had granted her. It had been her choice to follow Revan and Malak.

'No. No, I'm just here to get my questions answered and to be judged. It won't matter if they try to get rid of me. I'm not a Jedi anymore, anyway.' The admission hit Niel hard. It really was true. She was gone. He opened his mouth to protest, but she shook her head. 'No. I'm not a Jedi anymore. A Jedi not only uses the Force to help others, but they feel it, too. I used the Force as if it were a blaster or a vibroblade in the Wars. I stopped being a Jedi a long time ago. You know this,' she chided. Delasaer didn't seem to be affected by this, and she wasn't. She'd known it; she just hadn't said it, not even to herself.

Nathaniel couldn't bring himself to protest further. What Delasaer had just mentioned sounded nothing like her. He could find little connection between the Delasaer that had made fun of Atris and the Delasaer that alienated herself from what she'd grown up as. It was shocking to hear his best friend losing herself, and he felt utterly helpless. What could he do? Nothing. He knew less than Delasaer knew about losing the Force, and he couldn't even begin to figure out where to ask questions. He could only imagine how Delasaer felt. But that's it, isn't it? he thought. She doesn't seem affected by it. That's what so shocking. She doesn't mind. It was frightening.

'How did you figure out that I was here, Niel?' Delasaer asked abruptly.

'Uhh...I don't know. I guess...Wait. I...I remember the Force practically jumping up and away, almost like a wind blows grass backwards.' He paused. 'I should have seen it then, but I was just so happy to see you alive and -- ' he stopped there. She was alive, yes, but certainly not well. His friend nodded, following his train of thought.

At that moment, a droid walked into the Cantina and to their table. It bowed to each of them in turn, then looked at Delasaer.

'Pardon me, Madam Jedi,' it said, 'Are you Jedi Delasaer Chval?'

'Speak of the Sith,' Niel said. Even in his tense state of mind, he still managed to behave like a smart mouth.

'I am Delasaer Chval,' she said. The correction was not obvious to the droid, but Niel knew she meant that she wasn't a Jedi. 'A message from the Council, I expect?'

'Yes, madam. The Council requests that they see you at once. It is urgent.'

'Thank you, droid. You may leave,' she said formally. The droid hesitated. 'Yes?'

'I do ask you to be wary, madam. Many people are hostile towards the Jedi and the Sith alike because of the Mandalorian War.' The droid bowed again and left.

Delasaer slowly rose to her feet. Nathaniel looked up at her.

'Are you sure you wanna do this, Del? You could back out now. I have more than enough credits. I could help you.'

'Niel, please. We are all adults, and we shall handle the situation like adults.'

'Yeah? Well most adults are acting like children these days,' he said, standing.

'They can hardly be blamed for that.'

Nathaniel towered over her, meeting her eyes sadly. Delasaer was not a small woman, and he had never before had to look down at her, but the years had changed this. He suddenly gave her a hug, which, while much like the one before, where her head could barely be found amongst his sleeves, was much more gentle and caring, like a brother would hug a sister that had been lost for weeks. Delasaer couldn't help but relax. He was still her best friend, even though they had grown up and behaved so differently in the recent years. He finally released her, but still held on to her shoulders.

'I want you to know that I'll help you do whatever you need to do, alright? I'll be there for you, just like I've been there before. You won't be alone.'

She nodded, a sad half-smile on her face. 'I know. Thank you, Nathaniel.'

The man gave her shoulders a short squeeze, then let go, genuinely worried for her. She walked past him carefully, languidly, but decisively. She didn't look back, and as she left through the door, Nathaniel Weidon was left with his own worries in an empty Cantina.

---

He paced, waiting and waiting. It was like waiting for test results, only worse. He looked around, noticing for the first time that the Jedi Enclave was nearly empty, so close to the evening. The afternoon light was waning quickly, and an evening chill was settling on the grounds. Many were either already asleep, in their rooms to study, or eating dinner at the Cantina. It hadn't been long since his friend had left to meet with the Council, maybe half an hour. It seemed longer.

A touch from behind made Nathaniel Weidon jump and spin around to find Delasaer Chval standing with the same limpid expression on her face and the same emptiness in her eyes as when she'd left. Something fell inside him. He realized he'd been hoping they would cure her somehow, fix her. She's not a toy, his mind reminded him, She's a person. People can't break and they can't be fixed. They can only be mislead and lost. Even though his mind said that, he didn't feel like believing it. It was childish, he knew, to hope for something that wouldn't come from the Council.

'What happened?' he impetrated gently.

'I was exiled,' she stated simply.

'What!?'

'I was exiled.'

He stared at her. 'You're serious! Del, exile is rare! It's permanent, too! Once it's done, there's no going back!'

'I know.'

'How can you be so calm about this?' Niel shook his head in disbelief. 'And you're just going, like that?'

'They've arranged for a ship to pick me up from the grove nearby. They said that a disturbance in the Force around me was disturbing the studies of the others.'

'All the Masters agreed?' he demanded. 'Vash? Atris? Vandar? Vrook? Zez-Kai Ell? Dorak? Zhar?' She nodded after each name. He paused, running a hand through his hair for the hundredth time, then looked at her. 'Even Kavar?' She looked down, and nodded. 'I don't believe this!' he raged, 'How could they do this! You didn't do anything! It's not your fault!'

'Niel,' Delasaer said, placing a hand on his arm to stop him from kicking up dust everywhere. 'You're forgetting why I came here in the first place. It was not because I couldn't feel the Force. It was because I wanted to face the consequences for my actions at the War.'

He exhaled. 'You're the only one that came back, and they toss you out like that! This is ridiculous!'

Delasaer gazed at him sharply. 'You said this before. What do you mean that I'm the only one who returned?'

'Uh...Well, you're the only one that came back. From the War. No one else had the guts to face the Council, or the common sense. Maybe some turned to the Dark Side, but...' he shook his head. 'It couldn't have been all of them. They probably went to hide somewhere. Di'kute!'

'Well, I see you've picked up some wonderful words, Niel,' Delasaer said, raising her eyebrows, unimpressed with his choice of language to swear in.

'I don't even remember what language that's it.'

'Mandalorian.'

'Oh. Sorry. I...I didn't remember.' There was silence. There seemed to be many moments filled with thoughts the past day. When they were younger, there was always some sort of joke or idiocy spoken between them. Now, it seemed they were truly distant from 'way back when'. Not liking the silence, Niel spoke up again. 'What did you tell them?'

She was silent for a moment. 'I told them I would face the consequences. I told them I was not afraid of something I brought upon myself. And they told me I wasn't a Jedi anymore. I...don't think they sensed what was missing. They sensed something wrong, but...they couldn't tell what it was. Niel, if they don't know, how should I?'

'I know less than you do, Del.' He looked at her, dressed in civilian clothes instead of the Jedi robes she had come in with. He saw that the two lightsabre hilts that were usually hanging from her waist were gone. 'Your lightsabres? Where are they?'

'They took them away. It's a part of exile.'

Niel immediately reached for his own and held it out to her. 'Take it. It's not yours, but it's the least I can do. I can always build myself another one. Please. Take it.'

Delasaer shook her head and pushed his hand away. 'I can't. I don't need it.' He knew better than to press her, so he put it away. 'Niel,' she said, 'Would you please escort me to the ship?'

'Wha - ? Oh. Yeah. Sure.' They turned and began to walk out into the courtyard. 'What are you going to do now? I have credits, Del. If you need the help, I'll be there. All you have to -- '

'Stop it, Niel. I can manage by myself.' A hint of a true smile danced across her face. 'I'm normal now. No Jedi, no Sith, no Force to concern myself with. Don't pity me for this.' They had arrived in the grove, and could see the small shuttle to take her...somewhere.

'Aye, but... 'Delasaer Chval never goes down without a fight'!' he quoted something she'd said years ago. Delasaer's face turned very serious.

'I was brought down after fighting a war for this.'

She turned without another word she turned and walked on-board the shuttle which had opened and extended a short walkway. It closed behind her, leaving Nathaniel Weidon to stare after her, the Jedi Exile, once more. He realized she still hadn't looked back.