There is no Death.

“It’s a terrible loss, Kytan was a good Jedi.”
“Yes, she was. She will be missed greatly.”
“How is the padawan taking it?”
“She hasn’t spoken since it happened.”
“Understandable, the poor child...”

Alyea stood with her head rested lightly against the pillar listening to the hushed conversation between the two Jedi Masters, it was one she’d become very familiar with since… the event. The Sith are deceptive, they said, whilst the Jedi could sense their malevolence it didn’t mean they could always be identified. Alyea had learned all too soon what true masters of their dark arts they could be, when one day about a week ago her Master had walked in on someone trying to steal a Jedi holocron and was somehow killed. No one was sure how they got in without the Jedi detecting their presence but one thing was clear, it has been Sith and it had gotten away after slaying her Master.

Alyea hadn’t been with her Master when she died but she felt it, she knew. She’d been in a meditation chamber when it happened and despite running as fast as she could she’d arrived too late. Apparently the other Jedi Masters tried to hold her back, they didn’t want her to see but she’d struggled and screamed Kytan’s name over and over until their grip loosened on her arms and they let her go. Alyea didn’t remember any of that, all she remembered was a dim room and her Master laying on the floor as if she’d just lain down to sleep.

There is no death.

When Alyea opened her eyes again a hot tear was burning its way down her cheek and she hurriedly whipped it away with the back of her hand. Kytan wouldn’t have wanted her tears, she believed strongly in the Code but without her around Alyea found it difficult to follow in her footsteps. She moved silently through the temple back to her room. A few of the other Jedi gave her sympathetic smiles and some tried to stop and talk but she walked past them if they were nothing more then shadows. Or maybe she was the shadow, a padawan without a Master, without anyone to guide her, with nothing but the Force which she didn’t want to believe in anymore but dare not voice to anyone. The door to the room closed with a whoosh behind her, it was only then she let a soft sob escape her lips.

There is no death.

Home. Despite the lack of welcome, Kor could never consider the Temple as anything but home. He was as out of place and unwelcome here as he was on his home world, but there was a peace to the Temple that he could not seem to feel anywhere else. It was this sense of peace that kept him returning, until disdain drove him away. But it was not the disdain other Jedi possessed for Kor that drove him away, as they though, but rather his disdain for them. They did not take the Code out into the galaxy and learn with it. They strapped it to themselves as armor, using it to hide from the galaxy around them and learn nothing. Once, he had found it sad. Now, he just couldn't care less.

The death stick in his hand drew eyes, even though it was unlit. Kor did not really like the thing, but they had seen him through a lot of tough times in the Grand Army of the Republic, and he was not about to turn his back on someone who had proven he could count on. Unlike his fellow Jedi, they assumed nothing and asked for nothing, never judged and always supported. Who cares if they are illegal?

His bare chest drew eyes as well. Scars criss-crossed his skin, pale lines and holes in a lightly tanned canvas. The muscles beneath were firm, strong, tight. Any who looked at him could tell he was a warrior as much as he was trouble.

The peaceful atmosphere he had craved was gone, however. Something had come, and taken it away, and that was what drew Kor into the halls, to roam, to search. Undoubtedly he could ask any number of Jedi that he passed, but that was not his way. He trusted in himself, his instincts, and the Force. Wisdom was as much about learning as it was about knowing.

Alyea didn’t particularly want to leave her room again but the first knots of hunger were starting to gnaw at her. She’d tried to sleep off the need but when she woke it was still there, a pit in her belly demanding attention. That meant she’d have to venture into the temple again, run the risk of being stopped by the other older Jedi who thought she would benefit from talking to them about it, “honestly, Alyea” they would say, “I know it won’t change things but it will help you to talk about it.”

If she were more cynical she might have considered they had a pool going, betting on who she would talk too first and when but for the time being she just considered them nosey, thinking they were all knowing when they knocked on her door trying to get her to speak of how she felt. If she was honest with herself she was perhaps a little angry at them for their persistence and the reasoning behind it. She knew they were concerned about her but their worry steamed from a fear, a fear of having this event twist inside her, bottle up and turn her into the very thing that killed Kytan. It was fear and not a genuine compassion to be there for her after a loss of a loved one, to let her experience grief and loss like a human being rather then a Jedi. It was this knowledge that caused Alyea to keep her silence, which made her begin to question the Code itself.

She rose and exited her room, despite the Jedi being a mostly composed, quietly serene place it seemed deafening compared to the true silence she’d had in her room. Swallowing thickly she started down the hall towards the canteen, keeping her eyes lowered but it wasn’t enough – just as she feared a shadowed crossed her path and the familiar voice of Master Trudow hit her ears like an impact. “Good afternoon, Alyea.”

She didn’t pay attention after that; letting her expression go blank she gazed past him down the hallways. Her brow creased faintly in curiosity but quickly smoothed as she noticed a Jedi she never seen before, at least she assumed he was a Jedi by the fact he was carrying a lightsaber. Apart from the weapon itself he seemed completely alien to her mind of the image of what a Jedi should look like and hold himself. This man… he seemed more a warrior then a peace-loving Jedi.

Master Trudow noticed her distraction and followed her gaze. Alyea didn’t speak, merely watched the newcomer with her typical numb gaze. However, as soon as Trudow caught sight of the man he sighed slowly but quickly recovered his composure. “Hail Kor, I see you still indulge in questionable habits.”

As he approached the scene before him, one of his eyebrows slowly rose. The Master, and the catatonic student. It took all Kor had to refrain from laughing. How little the Temple changed. The Master spoke, and clearly Kor was expected to retort to their bait. But Kor was above that now, a wise and powerful Jedi knight. He did not need to engage in such silly arguments and fights, did he?

In reflection though, he probably would. "Hail Master Trudow, I see you're still boring the younger members." He sidled up next to the young Jedi, more to help deflect some of the Master's infuriating calm. Had he winked at her as he took his position. "Judging from the look on her face, I have arrived just in time to catch her as she falls asleep." He knew the scent of death stick smoke still clung to his frame, but hopefully that would help drive the Master away even faster. Saving the poor girl would serve as his one good deed for the day, and good deeds were generally good for the soul.

As he listened to Trudow's response, he let his eyes drift over the younger Jedi he had arrived to save. Her braid marked her as padawan, although her age gave her much experience at it. A few years away from her own trials, perhaps? Kor saw deeper than that, however. He saw the lines of tiredness, hunger, weary resignation. Whatever it was that had sapped the vital energies of the Temple, it had had a profound effect on this poor girl. Clearly, she was mired deep within it, and from her, he sensed confusion, fear and loss, feelings he knew all too well. He could not leave her to the Master now.

Trudrow straightened, the lines at the corners of his eyes deepened as if he was involved in some kind of inner battle. His eyes skimmed across her face and perhaps because he noticed she’d inched slightly towards Kor he clearly decided to give up on this occasion, but not without a parting shot. “Be respectful to this padawan, Kor. She has been through a great deal recently and we don’t want her to be subjected to anymore,” He raised a brow at Kor knowingly and then turned to leave, “Alyea I will catch up with you later.”

The look on Alyea’s face must have been one of pure relief. At the precise moment the new Jedi had slipped up to defend her from the Master, she’d decided she could not have cared less what he had done to earn Tudrow’s disdain , why he smelled like the smoke of something insidious or even if he was a reputable sort of man or not. He was saving her from the conversation and to her that made him the best man alive in the whole temple. When he winked at her she had reflexively smiled faintly out of amusement but it was fleeting. Just because she was grateful didn’t mean she thought she owed him anything so as soon as Trudrow walked away she didn’t try and initiate conversation merely let her gaze drift dully over the other passing Jedi, looking more like she saw right through them.

Two padawan she knew sidled passed them, up and until the event she’d been rather liked amongst others her own age, she’d been an excellent student and lively. Since the incident they had been steering clear of her – perhaps they were afraid of how the event might have changed her but today they clearly though the other Jedi’s strangeness was worth the risk. They wandered past whispering in hushed tones as they failed to hide their interest in Kor, checking him over with poorly concealed looks mimicking the Master’s disdain merely because they were useless puppets, or so she thought.

“The sith killed her Master and now she’s hanging out with that guy? She's changed....”

Alyea lowered her head as she caught the fragment of their conversation and not caring how rude it might seem she turned and started away from Kor, heading back to her chambers – she didn’t need food that badly.

“The sith killed her Master and now she’s hanging out with that guy? She's changed....”

His eyes slowly roamed over the padawans as they passed. "So quick to pass judgement, children?" His voice was not the same, jovial tone he had used to deflect the Jedi Master. It was lower now, somehow more sinister. "Know all about personal loss though, I'm sure." A deft flick of his wrist, and a death stick was in his hand. "Seen it all, I bet, and weathered it all without a wince." Another flick of his other wrist, and a small device landed snugly in his other palm. "Faced off against the sith too, of course." His voice trailed off as he took a slow drag of the death stick. Illegal, unhealthy, and somehow so damn satisfying.

"I gotta say, I am impressed. Damn impressed indeed. When my Master was murdered, I was a mess." With each word, small puffs of smoke left his mouth, slowly drifting towards those he spoke to. "Wish I had her composure. She is acting out the Code with a will I haven't seen before." He takes another slow drag, shaking his head. "Of course, loss and murder, those are things you don't just hear about when you are a Jedi. They are things you feel. When your Master dies, you don't just see it happen, you feel it. Their light extinguished; their presence in the Force, gone. You feel like you've been hollowed out, just a discarded fruit peel with nothing nourishing inside anymore." He was moving closer now, taking light, little steps towards the padawans. "Murder is something that touches us, and once touched, we are never, ever the same." So close now, he could whisper and they would hear him, just how he wanted them. "And if I ever hear of you tormenting that girl again, I'll be coming. Coming. To. See. You. Personally." With each word, he thrusts his finger like a weapon, poking the more vocal of the two padawans in the chest. His last word spoke, his last poke given, he steps back, a smile on his lips, a lighter tone to his voice. "I hope we're clear, little ones."

It was satisfying to see the padawan faint; perhaps they were right after all. Before the event if she’d watched one of her friends eyes roll back into their heads and tumble, she’d had been the one to clumsily catch them on the other side. Not now though, now a faint flicker of amusement crossed her heart, gratification that they couldn’t stand up to the cold truth like she had been forced to do. She watched as the other half-walked, half-dragged their friend away from Kor like two mice feeling from a Krayt dragon.

‘They are things you feel.’

Alyea watched the Jedi, unable to pinpoint exactly what she felt - curious, grateful, awed and somehow he’d spoken with such an authority, it left her with no doubts he understand exactly how she felt because he’d experienced it too. He knew the pain; he knew the loss and the anger. He probably knew what it was to hate yourself and everyone else for not being able to be there and help. He’d gotten through it though; he was standing there still a Jedi before her – wasn’t he? Alyea blinked, it was the first time she allowed hope to touch her again.

“I did feel it.” Her voice sounded rusty, unused. They were the first words she’d spoken in weeks, would he realise that, know how significant it was that she was speaking to him now. She licked her lips unconsciously and tasted salt, it was only then she realised a tear had burned a hot trail down her cheek and she whipped it away with the back of her hand. There was no way in hell she was going to cry in the corridors and give the other Jedi the satisfaction of seeing her finally unleash the pain she’d been bottling up inside.

'There is no death.'

When she opened her eyes again she felt calmer, the tears only threatened to spill but that was a sensation she was growing more accustomed too everyday. She looked at Kor again, smoking his death stick, no longer menacing, she wasn’t ready to quite let go of this Jedi who understood just yet. “Want to grab something to eat?”

He shook his head slowly, as he took another drag of his death stick. The fainting had taken the fight out of him. There was no reason for him to keep going. Let them run, tails between their legs. Maybe next time they would think before they spoke. It always irked him, to see such foolishness from the next generation. They were supposed to be the bright hope, and he was disappointed indeed. And then he heard the words from behind him. He had thought she had gone, but apparently not only had she stayed, she had seen what he had done for her.

He exhaled away from her deliberately before turning to face her. He saw the shimmering trail of a tear on her cheek, but did not draw attention to it. Her voice was rough, another clear sign of grief. She could not handle it, and none of the Jedi here were really helping her. He could understand that a Sith infiltrator meant they had serious work to do here, but surely they would have made sure the young one was taken care of? Or was this the best they could offer?

"A bite to eat?" He blinked slowly. It had been a long time since a beautiful woman had invited him to eat, and he had to bite down his automatic response. Not the time, nor the place. Or probably the right recipient either. "Yeah, I'd love a bite to eat. Not here though." He took another draw of the death stick slowly, as he started down the hall. "There is a great spot I can show you though..."

The other Jedi motioned and started to move away in a haze of bitter-smelling smoke. What could Alyea do but follow after him? Like Alice trailing the white rabbit she pursued him down the hole, through the temple oblivious now to the gazes they drew from the other Jedi and into the busy streets of Coruscant.

To an off-worlder Coruscant was a large, bustling metropolis, sprawling endlessly in all directions. It could be a place of beauty, awe or fear depending on the person’s temperament. To Alyea though it was just ‘home’, she’d been born here and raised here in the temple. She’d never been anywhere else and because of it she could only imagine she’d die here as well. Her eyes were immune to the glitz and glamour of the signs, the advertising and the lights of ships landing and departing. Her ears were accustomed to the constant hum of noise from the never-ending traffic, people beating on the footpaths day and night and the eternal conversations in a thousand different languages going on around her. Perhaps most of all she was used to how the Force felt here humming continuously in the back of her mind energised through the millions of beings who called this world their home too.

She didn’t blink, gap or stare at the world around her as they emerged through the temple’s gates known despite not having left its grounds for many months and never without her former Master at her side. Her whole being was focused on Kor now as he slipped perfectly at ease into the crowd, casually joining the web and flow of life all around them. Alyea paused at the gates and then, she too, threw herself wholeheartedly in the fray of bodies after him and willingly tumbled head-over-heels into Wonderland.

Grax's diner would never be considered a grand restaurant. At the best it was a very modest eatery, with its dim lights, worn tables, and slightly run down service droids. Grax himself, however, was perhaps the most personable alien on Coruscant, and his kitchen, although messy, produced some of the greatest dishes the planet had ever seen. Almost as important, Grax didn't mind if Kor lit up a death stick now and again.

He had done most of the speaking through the meal, of course, telling the girl first about the place, and then a little about himself. But Kor had never been much of one for stunning conversations, so most of their time was spent eating and enjoying the atmosphere. Meal finished, he was now leaning back in his chair, death stick in one hand, lighter in the other. He had a far gentler expression on his face than he had at the Temple, fully aware that it was likely she would talk soon, and what she had to talk of would not be easy to say, or hear.

Alyea sat across from the Jedi knight, her brow was knit into a slight frown but her eyes were vacant, she was gazing right through him again. She felt almost at ease for the first time since the event, like a massive pressure had been lifted from her shoulders. There was no one here waiting to pop out in front of her and try and convince her to talk and Kor himself has asked her no questions. He had just carried on eating, making idle conversation and then allowed them both to slip into a comfortable silence. For the first time since she lost Kytan, she felt able to truly think through things and now as Kor lit a death stick she didn’t raise a brow but let herself become lost in her own thoughts knowing he would not be offended for it.

For as long as Alyea could remember she’d considered herself a Jedi. She’d never for a moment doubted that fact. Even as a younglings and others questioned if they were going to be chosen as a padawan or whether they would end up in say the explorers league, Alyea had known she was destined to be a Jedi. A faint smile skimmed across her lips as the memories surfaced, happy ones tinged now with traces of grief. “I remember the day Master Kytan chose me as her padawan.” Her tongue ran across her lips and she blinked, her eyes sluggishly focused on Kor, “It was only a few days after I had become of age – it seems so silly now but myself and some of the others I grew up with had decided to stage a demonstration of our skills in one of the temples corridors. See the others had gone directly to the Masters themselves to show off but we thought it we made it look like they had just stumbled across us on the way to the canteen and ‘happen’ to see our abilities in action we’d be chosen for sure.”

The corners of her lips twitched again into a smile, her tone started to carry momentum as she was swept up in the story, her grief momentary put aside. “My friend Rory was really nervous and had decided to build and bring this grappling hook, something about being able to show the Masters how the force flowed through him to give him strength… well if course the thing misfired and wrapped about Toku‘s legs just in the middle of him practicing a form which made him fall over and then Rory who’d tied the other line to his belt fell on top of him and got smacked in the head with a training blade and knocked out. Mirrian naturally ran over to help them but tripped on the rest of the cord and sent all three of them into a window breaking it.” Alyea put her elbow on the table, her cheek resting against her palm and she actually chuckled out aloud as she pictured the whole tangled mess again. “I used the force to stop the shards of glass falling on them – swept the whole mess aside into a neat pile. Then I untangled everyone and flagged a passing padawan down to help me carry Rory it the infirmary. It was such a mess, we’d utterly, utterly failed to show off any of our capabilities…”

“But then Kytan stopped me on the way to the infirmary and told me to meet her at her chambers after I’d taken care of Rory.” Her easy smile gave way a shimmer of tears in Alyea’s eyes, the grief all too easily surfacing again in the young padawan’s heart and her voice stammered as she finished her story for the Jedi knight. “She had this playful smile and it reached her eyes. She said there was a lot to learn and I’d have to start straight away if I was going to be her padawan… I never really did find out why she’d chosen me, especially after watching our tragic performance in the hallway.”

Silence fell again and she closed her eyes, trying to cause a barrier for the tears. It was no use though; she knew that particular trick wouldn’t work anymore. She’d allowed herself to relax too much with Kor, allowed herself to talk too much and now the words didn’t want her to stop expressing what she was feeling all alone in her room these last few weeks. Piece by piece Alyea felt herself start to fall apart, it was a strange sensation – all at once she wanted to scream, to cry, to talk to Kor and run out on him. The raging torrent of grief had finally crested and was breaking through the dam she’d hurriedly built herself whilst in the temple so she wouldn’t disappoint Kytan with her sadness and lack of understanding of the code. Her hand curled and uncurled into a fist and then it seemed everything happened at once, “She died alone you know. Somehow a sith got into the temple, our temple.” Her fingers traced patterns in the condensation on her glass, “They said she stumbled across it and tried to prevent it from leaving and was cut down for it… but …how can a sith get into the temple, into the Coruscant temple of all places and have no one know about it?”

Her hand trembled and the glass tipped and spilt. Frantically she grabbed some napkins and tried to clean it up but the liquid was no longer brown in her eyes but red. Red as Kytan’s blood as it ran across the floor, Alyea had seen no blood when she broke past the other Jedi and knelt by her fallen Master – it had seemed wrong at the time, that there had been no blood to mark the passing of a great Master. The blood was here now, in her imagination and she tried if scoop it up whimpering gently in concentration, acting as if she could somehow pour the vital essence back into her Master and turn back time for it. Grax appeared at the side of the table and handed Kor a damp cloth, his eyes passed over Alyea though she was incapable at the moment to register he was there. Normally he would have gotten one of his service droids to clean the spill or he’d done it himself but he knew grief when he saw it. So after leaving the cloth and patted Kor on the shoulder sympathetically he retreated back into his kitchen to give the pair some privacy, the frantic murmurs of the young woman haunted him, “There is no death, there is no death…”

She would not feel it, not yet, but Kor gently rest his hand upon her shoulder. His voice was soft, whispering in her ear. Not the part of the Jedi code that she was repeating over and over, but the whole code. She was suffering no. He had taken her to the place where she would break, and now he had to see if she was ready to come back. He let her do what she needed to, focus on her task, and simply remained there for her. He could not shelter her from the pain and grief she was feeling, but he would remind her that he was there, and when she was ready, he would share in her grief.

He could remember his own grief, the pain. For Kor, there had been no one else, and in part that explained why he was so different from all the other Jedi. As much as he loved his free life and would not want it changed, he would not want her to face the same pains that brought him to the life he knew now. He wanted her to know peace, happiness, and joy.

"I wish I had the chance to be selected like that. Things with my Master were a little more... strained." He chuckled softly, letting his head shake. A little more strained? That was an understatement. The words would not snap her out of her grief, but it gave her an out for when she was ready to recognize it. Until then, he would sit and wait with her, hand on her shoulder, a comforting presence in these trying times.

Somewhere in the distant reaches of her mind Alyea heard someone murmuring to her, but they had no substance rather it rippled over her more like the sound of waves lapping at the shore. A part of Alyea didn’t want to be comforted, not yet. With ‘blood’ still on her hands she somehow managed to stand, getting around the comforting presence of Kor without so much as a sideways glance and was now staring vacantly at the menu over the counter. Comfort didn’t mater, neither did the grief – it would still all be wrong, no matter how long or hard she cried it didn’t make a difference to her life anymore. Kytan was gone and a part of her as well.

As silence fell once more in the diner Alyea realised that strangely, the more she thought about the event now instead of sadness she felt anger burning at her breast. A heat was building in her cheeks as a kind of temporary madness started to set in. There was fury that no one had been there for Kytan when she died and that no one had even talked about tracking the Sith down to get justice for her death. Then there was disappointment in herself for not having thought of that sooner and finally, anger at Kytan herself for allowing herself to die and leave Alyea alone.

“Want another drink honey?” The server droid spoke and startled the girl. Alyea reacted purely on instinct as she whipped around, lightsaber igniting and bisected the droid three times before it hit the floor and anyone else in the establishment could react. Normally it might have been an impressive display of combat technique but instead as the padawan stood over the recently slain, panting raggedly her eyes almost aglow with a strange kind of sick satisfaction and her lips warped into a smile, the scene could only be thought of truly macabre. Alyea took another deep shaken breath, the pieces which lay at her feet momentarily taking on the form of a fallen sith and a powerful satisfaction started to spread throughout her body and the smallest of laughs spilt form her lips. She deactivated the saber as suddenly the form flickered and took on the image of her fallen Master as she lay on the library floor. Alyea’s lips contorted again from the dark smile to a look of pure horror and she cried out and stumbled back, shaken to her senses enough to be frightened by her actions and the twisted path her thoughts had recently taken.

Her fingers trembled and tightened around the lightsaber tasting the familiar texture of the hilt under her fingers, what was she turning into? What use were the Jedi and their code for her now and for Kytan then?, “This weapon is meant to help us bring peace…. but a weapon just like it…it ruined everything! I hate the Sith! I hate... I hate this!” Her fingers flexed again and without any further notice she hurled the weapon she was holding with all the strength grief could give her. The window shattered as the hilt passed through it, causing glass to fall like deadly raindrops, the lightsaber hitting the pavement outside and skidding to a halt. Passerby’s had paused, startled, angry and confused and peered into the dim depths of the diner to try and comprehend what just happened. All they saw was a young woman curled in on herself, rocking every so gentle back and forth on her heels and sobbing uncontrollably.

Years later Alyea would look back on that moment and think perhaps Kytan must have been watching over her and manipulated the events that followed. For almost immediately the little bell over the diner door tinkled and the sound of shoes crunching against glass could be heard crossing over to the prone padawan. “Excuse me, Miss Jedi?” Alyea blinked; startled out of her coma by the sound of the child’s voice and her tearstained face looked up into a totally innocent one of a human boy around the age of seven or so. In his hand he held her lightsaber which he extended towards her, “My mum says Jedi’s aren’t meant to be without this.” Alyea blinked again, he spoke earnestly having no concept as too why he’d come across the weapon in the street but rather had allowed his heart to guide his actions without any delay. He took her hand gently in her own and placed the hilt back into it, donning a joyful expression of accomplishment. “I wish I could be a Jedi…” As he spoke he smiled and his eyes danced happily like Kytan’s had done, “…but it’s okay because my mum says my little brother is going to be one instead. It means he has to go far away and I might not ever see him again but… but that’ll be okay too cos he’s always going to be right here forever.” He touched his chest with his thumb as he puffed it out proudly, “And as long as he’s here, he’ll be the best Jedi ever, for the both of us!”

“David!”

The child started and looked a little sheepish, “That’s my mum – I gotta go. You hold onto that nice and tight now; I bet you have to be an awesome Jedi for someone else as well.” He offered her one last bright smile, waving at her and then Kor enthusiastically and then ran out of the diner to carry-on with his life without a second glance back. Alyea sat stock-still amongst the shattered remnants of her life and the chaos she’d inflicted on the diner, listening to his voice as it trailed off in the distance, “Mum, mum I met a real Jedi!”

It was several more moments before Alyea finally moved, licking her lips and turned her gaze to Kor. Her expression was somewhat clearer now and her voice was barely more then a whisper as she spoke, carrying on with a conversation like nothing had happened - ready to accept the comfort, “How as it different with your Master?”

"How was it different?" he asked softly, repeating her words. "I scarcely know where to begin." He looked out through the gaping hole in the diner window, his gaze causing the last few gawkers to carry on with their business. It had been a long time since Kor had let himself think of it, and even longer since he had spoken of it out loud, at least to anyone else. He sipped from his drink as he brought his usually scattered thoughts in to line, and began to speak.

"Malastare is not a pleasant world, by any means. The gravity is heavy, the swamps and forests thick, and the methane lakes add a strange and vaguely unpleasant tint to the air." He shivered a little and seemed to shrink in on himself as he let the memories fill his mind. "The Dugs are a pretty unpleasant lot as well. Although the Gran rule the planet, it is the Dug home world, and they are a temperamental sort. My unit and I were there to help maintain the peace at one of the methane farms. Not exactly flattering work, but you took it where you could. When the Dugs revolted against the Muun owner of the farm we were stationed at, protests turned to violence very quickly. We were overwhelmed before we really even know we were under attack, the only option left to us to flee into the swamps. And then the Jedi came." He ran one of his hands through his hair as he remembered her. The first Jedi he had ever met, and the first woman he had ever really loved. "Selene Bridgewater. She was relatively young, or so we thought, but at that point we would have let a child lead us, if it seemed half way competent. She was ambushed on her way to the farm, but we came to her aid. Not that she really needed it, I guess. We thought she would be the turning point, that she would bring peace between the Dugs and the Muun. Yeah, right."

He paused long enough to take a drink from his glass slowly. He did not usually talk this much, and his mouth was beginning to get dry. He let his eyes roam back from the window to the young padawan with him, seeing if she was following that far, and allowing the pause to give her time for questions.

For most of his story she sat in a little ball, her arms curled protectively around her legs, her cheek rested on her knee as she regarded him with large eyes. She resembled a broken doll which some child had tossed to the side after taking every ounce of joy from it that they could. However, the longer he spoke the more it seemed his voice, his tale started to undo the hard knot that had grown inside of her. Her hands slowly flexed, unclenching from around the forearms they bit into and little by little she uncurled, moved, taking the seat opposite him once more without even being conscious of it. Her thoughts were elsewhere now, no longer aware of the shattered glass or the droids which whizzed about both outside and in, cleaning and repairing the damage she’d caused.

In her mind she was on Malastare as he described it, roaming the forests and lakes, chocking slightly on the methane which drifted lazily off them, hearing the grunts of the Dugs from in between pillars of trees and feeling her heart race in anticipation. She saw the Jedi, Selene coming to Kor and his men when they needed it the most. Drifting like some glowing celestial being through the thick trees and murky horizons and her heart physically quaked in relief and awe as theirs must have on the sight of her. Kor wasn't exactly a masterful storyteller as he related that part of his life to her in the cool dim of the diner. However she could hear the real story behind the words, the emotion staining each word he spoke– love, pain, reverence. It weaved a hypnotic web around them both and left her feeling utterly be spelled by the man who was able to share in her grief on a level no other had before.

As he trailed off and regarded her once more he found her leaning forward on the table, gaze firmly fixed on his face and then as they turned to her, his eyes. She blinked lazily once or twice, her brow furrowing as she was brought rather unwilling out of her faraway thoughts and back into the moment. When she spoke to him next, she was quite a different girl. Her tone wasn't laced with profound loss that he might have become accustomed too but rather eager, rapt with curiosity for him to continue his tale but also somehow soothing, comforting, letting him know he was safe to continue speaking to her on it. “Yes? What happened then?”

How to continue? He was quiet for a moment, not the quiet of silence, but the quiet of anticipation, of knowing the next chapter of the story is coming, feeling it hanging in the air before you, right before it washes over you. He shifted in his seat, his feet coming up to rest his boots on the chair next to the padawan, and he took time in the pause for another sip of his drink.

"It wasn't supposed to be how it was, you see? Where did the Dugs get their weaponry from? Why were the Muun's so eager to put their slaved to death? Why would either side damage the space port? None of it made sense, but it was true none the less. One battle turned into two, turned into several, turned into many. Days become weeks, weeks became months, and the months slowly crawled into years. We were a good unit, a strong unit, outfitted with the best. But there were no reinforcements, no relief in sight. One by one, we fell, and those who remained became closer than family. Selene hadn't been one of us at the very start, but after that first battle, she was. And by the end of it..." His voice failed him, and he paused once more. A longer hit of his drink, a deeper sigh. By no means was Kor old, but in this failing, artificial light his experiences showed in the lines on his face. He had seen far more than he should have in his years.

"We became very close. Too close, I guess, for a commanding officer and a Jedi Knight. But war does that. She told me I was strong in the Force, that I could learn. I wasn't interested, but somehow... she got me learning anyway. I got stronger, we got closer, and we really began doing some good, changing things, heading towards resolution. On the planet, the hidden Jedi became legend. And then, death came for her." Tears now shimmered, unshed in his eyes. They would not fall, for he would not let them, but he could not keep them away either. They came unbidden, the raw emotion of the memories catching him up as surely as the story.

"A bounty hunter. The Immortal. By this point, it was just the two of us, and we fought him, together. She struck him down, but somehow, hours later, he was upon us again. I cut him in half. And the next day, he came again. So strong, so fast... and never relenting. I think she knew it was only a matter of time. She split us up, and I wasn't there when... when..."

His head bowed, and the unshed tears began to flow then. It would be some minutes before he could find his voice again.

Alyea knew that pain as the tears shimmered in Kor’s eyes; his gaze no longer in the moment but remembering those fetid swamps of his past and of the Jedi he clearly came to love fervently. Alyea knew because she’d been living in the same dark hell since her own sweet Master had died. The relationships might have been different in either case but the emotion behind them was the same. Kor understood yet somehow it did not help to lighten the load on her young shoulders. She’d been in pain and managed to make this kind Jedi relive his own – a selfish deed on her behalf. She lowered her gaze as he valiantly tried but failed to hold the tears back and all she could do was reach across the table and lay one delicate hand atop of his own and repeat the same mantra she’d been trying to believe in since the darkness came to her.

“There is no death.”

Would the words seem as hollow to him as they had to her? Would a part of him resent her as she resented all the others as when they tried to comfort and console her? A sad sort of smile flicked across her lips and her heart thawed towards them a little, they were only trying to help in the face of extreme despair. She wished she could wrap herself and Kor up in a blanket of silence, where tears could be shed and they could escape the ignorance of others and find solace in one another.

She sighed and realised that somehow whilst she’d been lost in her thoughts her fingers had curled about his own and were idly stroking the back of his hand, a soft caress speaking of an underlying need to simply connect with someone again. She desperately wanted to help him; just as much as she was crying out to he saved herself from the void. He seemed so terrible old and lost sitting across from her. Images of her Master and of Selene danced before her eyes; he knew the pain of not being there, he probably had felt the moment of separation as keenly as she had. A strange sort of calm came over her and she realised he might have been the only person in the universe who could truly understand. If he could not recover from his experiences what chance did she stand?

She held her breath and watched as if with someone else eyes that she’d leant across the table and clumsily lit one of his death sticks from his pocket, trying to return some of the tenderness he’d show her in the darkest of hours. She coughed faintly on its smoke and slid into the same side of the booth as him as she offered it to him, a look of gentle earnest in her eyes. He was so close now, she could smell the old smoke which clung to him but unlike the fresh one it did not revolt her but made her lean closer and inhale, wanting to remember him and this moment forever. She glanced up to him again, their bodies and lips so close now she could scarcely breathe without him feeling it too. She reached with her free hand to brush a tear from his cheeks, silently hating she was the one who caused them to be there. “Kor..." she breathed his name in a soft sigh, "...words are useless now but I am here if you need me.”

He smelled the smoke, and blinked slowly, looking towards her. She had taken one of his death sticks, and now was offering it back to him. He snatched it quickly, realising that the hand that snatched it was trembling, and the other hand that she was stroking was steady as a rock. He had brought her out here to deal with her emotional problems, and somehow the roles had been reversed. She was not the strong one, and he the weeping girl. He plopped the death stick into his mouth casually, and despite his cheeks still wet with tears, a grin crossed his lips. "These things aren't good for you at all," he said softly.

Carefully, he left a stack of credits on the table to pay, partly for the meal but mostly for the inconvenience he knew they had caused. Not that his friend would begrudge him that, but it was always nice to air on the side of caution when dealing with such matters. As he stood slowly, his hand grasped the one stroking it, and he helped Alyea to her feet as well. "Let's blow this joint." At any other place, in any other time, the attentions of a beautiful woman would have caused a very different reaction in Kor, but he knew this was neither the time nor the place. A walk in the moonlight should do them some good, and give Kor a chance to clear his head. As they began to walk, his voice called to her softly, so soft only she could hear it. "Thank you, Alyea."

Alyea felt a rare smile cross her lips slowly as Kor took her hand and tugged her from the booth and into the street. She felt a bond with him now that extended beyond simple gratification for his kindness he’d shown. They were kindred spirits, joined through the Force by a common misfortune. She inclined her head slowly, feeling some semblance of strength coming back to her heart. As he spoke quietly and instinctively she reached and took old of his hand once more and gave it a gentle squeeze, she wasn't quite ready to give up on the contact just yet. By his side Alyea almost felt like she could return to the world, a thin layer of light was finally shining on the horizon and peeking into the gloom.

Her eyes drifted upwards and gazed at the velvet sky above, the moon peeking out from around the great spires. It was never quiet on Coruscant – speeders, people and life in general were constantly burbling in the air, giving the whole world a resounding hum of energy and the living Force. The stars couldn't be seen from this level, the buildings were simply too brightly lit for them to be visible to the naked eye. Instead the lazy smoke of Kor’s cigarette floated before her eyes and she was becoming accustomed to the potent smell of it.

“They’re going to make me take the trails.” She sighed inwardly, voicing the other concern that had been plaguing her thoughts lately. “I simply cannot imagine having another Master. So, I either take the trails or I leave the order.” Her brow creased faintly, her heart squeezing in her chest knowing instinctively Kytan wouldn’t want her to abandon her training and somehow even considering it felt like a betrayal of the woman she once knew.

She couldn't imagine facing the trails now, some people like Kor might grow stronger from an event like this but Alyea felt drained and in need of someone else’s strength to help her re-enter the world. Kor had helped her make a good start of it today and then her eyes widened faintly as a wild idea came crossed her thoughts. Surely Kytan had sent Kor to help her, the one Jedi who shared her pain managed to find her surely meant something? She looked back to Kor, she’d known him only a few hours but already she completely trusted him. “Can you teach me?”

"The trials," Kor murmured to himself as she spoke of them. He had never needed to undergo the trials himself, the Jedi council recognizing that his struggles earlier had covered every need. It had been much harder to him, but easier in a way, for he never had the suspense and anxiety of knowing the trials were upon him. "You'll do good, kid," he had begun to say, when she turned to him, and she asked him her question.

To hear those words stunned him. Would he teach her? What could he possibly teach her, besides bad habits? No. He could not teach her. He would not teach her. She was innocent, and special, and spending more time with him would simply crush that out of her. But how could he tell her that? Not the truth, she would not believe that. Somehow she saw something noble in Kor, and that was an idea that scared him.

"Teach you what?" he asked gently, deciding to go for the gentle, humor approach. "All my bad habits?" He chuckled warmly, shaking his head at vocalising the idea. "No, little one. I have nothing you need to learn. And the council would not support it anyway." Of course they wouldn't be willing to leave her with a problem such a him. Would they?

Alyea watched the other Jedi and felt her brow furrow as he spoke, “Why wouldn't they?” She followed him a few more steps, gazing at him torn somewhere between feeling rejected a needing to push the issue. “You’re a knight, I am a padawan – we have a lot in common, you’re the first person I've really spoken too since…” She blinked rapidly suddenly realising that for a brief moment she’d forgotten her grief, he’d helped her do that and that strengthen her determination not to let that go. She trailed after him once more, pursuing him through the busy streets of Coruscant with renewed zeal.

“Besides you don’t have to really teach me anything. The council just has to think you are, so... so they don’t make me take the trails yet.” She glanced down to her hands as they wringed at one another, “I just need some more time. They don’t understand that, they think I need to move on, focus on the code, learn from this...” She spat those final words out and crinkled her nose in mild distress and disgust.

Her gaze strayed to his face once more, her eyes wide and innocent, “Anyway, maybe I need to learn some bad habits. Kytan always followed the rules and that didn’t seem to help her in the end, maybe meeting you was the will of the force.” Her expression changed slightly becoming slyer in the way only a woman can really be, “And you wouldn’t want to deny the will of the force, would you?” She arched a brow delicately in question somehow knowing she’d already won.

"You're damned right I would," Kor replied quickly. He hated all of the talk of Prophecy, and the Will of the Force, and Fate. "The Living Force isn't set in stone, little one. It lives, changes, grows. Like any living thing, it can be bent to purpose, or reasoned and compromised with. A lot of Jedi speak of what is predetermined, but do not let it fool you. The Force is as alive as you and I, and as reasonable as..."

While putting all of his will to not teaching the Padawan before him, the Force had somehow twisted Kor into lecturing her already. And the worst part was, it felt so natural, like this was the way it was meant to be. He could fight it, of course, marshal his will against that of the Living Force, push and push until one or the other bent or broke. But what was the point, really? As a soldier, Kor had learned to tell the difference between a fight you can win, and one you have already lost. This was definitely one of the latter.

"Alright, kid." His sigh was long, and drawn out. "You don't know what you're getting yourself in for, but you asked for it... and now you've got it."