Lost, Epilogue

Author’s Note: W00t! My first finished chapter story. Thanks to everyone who reviewed, helped, and/or listened to me ramble. I solemnly swear I will never ship Ankerra and Atton, btw. He’s got a FemExile his own age.

Disclaimer: Either you’ve caught on by now, or you’re very, very sloooooow.

Epilogue

“Force impressions? I’m sorry, ma’am, but could I have that once more, in Basic? It’s been a long time since I had to think about any of this mystic stuff.” Ankerra wore an expression of fear mixed with humiliation, like a child who had accidentally broken their mother’s antique vase.

The Mandalorian, now equipped with a neural dampening headband, sat in a chair outside the rooms the renewed Jedi had claimed as a sort of office, while Master Shan tried to decide exactly what to do with her. She hadn't even had a chance to apologize to the frightened Kali.

“Events leave imprints on the places where they occurred, like footprints in the sand. The actions of ordinary people are shallow, and easily washed away. But the actions of a Force Sensitive- or where the fates of many were united, like a battle field- are more… permanent.” Explain Visas Marr calmly, with the air of one who had done so many times before.

“And you’re saying I can see these… footprints?”

“All Jedi can, to a degree. But your natural talents appear to be particularly strong in this area, yes.”

“So how does this click with what happened earlier?”

“The Temple has a sense of history to it like few other places in the galaxy. It has been occupied by millions of Jedi over thousands of years. And you are a warrior, used to being aware of your surroundings, I’d wager. When you entered, you lacked the control to close your thoughts to these impressions, and your mind was overwhelmed.”

“So how do I make it stop?”

“You cannot, without external assistance such as the device you are wearing now. However, you can learn to keep yourself from being swamped by them. In fact, you may wish to develop these senses further. To be able to clearly see what has been- it is quite the asset.”

“Save the recruitment speech, madam Jedi. I’m Mandalorian, and we fight without magic tricks. Besides- I’ve only been here a little while, and you seem to have some pretty colorful characters- no offense- but I doubt your Order really wants a Jetiyc Mando’ade. This vision osik hasn't left me any choice but to stick around- but I’m only staying long enough to make this… thing” she waggled her fingers at her head. “not a problem.”

At that moment, they were approached by a man who was beginning to become a familiar sight to Ankerra. Atton Rand trotted down the hallway looking vaguely beleaguered pausing to look at her with surprise.

“Hey! Don’t tell me you decided to accept my offer.”

“Don’t worry. I won’t, ‘cause I didn’t.” Ankerra drawled acidly. “I suffered from a catastrophic loss of other options.”

Atton gave her an infuriating smirk. “Whoever you get stuck with will have his work cut out for him. I have to go, Master Shan wants to speak with me about something. But good luck.” He trotted into the office. Ankerra glanced at Visas, who wore a knowing smile she found just a bit unsettling. Muffled voices could be heard beyond the door, then-

“Apprentice!? What do you mean, apprentice?” bellowed Atton. Bastila’s reply was muffled, but Atton’s response to it was not.

“And there’s a reason for that, Shan! I don’t know anything about teaching-“ He was cut off sharply. Visas excused herself politely, and the door opened in time for Ankerra to catch the final words of the conversation. “…end badly, don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

Atton froze when he caught sight of her, suddenly looking embarrassed. He’d clearly forgotten she was in earshot. Ankerra put on her politest pazaak face, the one she used for talking to prospective employers.

“I take it I have been stuck with you, then?”

“Yeah. I’m supposed to show you the ropes, as long as you’re here.”

“Well, I don’t plan on being here long, so you’ll only have to deal with me a little while… sir.” She wasn’t about to bow and scrape and call him Master. He smiled like he knew something she didn’t.

“We’ll see. In the meantime, there’s no shortage of empty rooms, so we’ll drag whatever things you’ve brought into one of them.”

“My things are back at the dock, on my ship, sir.”

“Yours?”

“My brother’s, sir, on extended loan.”

“We’ll see about moving that into the Temple hangar too, then.”

“Yes sir.”

“And Ankerra?”

“Yes sir?”

“You don’t have to call me sir.”

“Yes sir.”

FIN