guys i've been working on attachment again and i feel like i'm ascending
more rambling about it if you're interested under the cut!!
i'm rewriting it as i've grown so much as a writer in... two years (i am SO SORRY for slacking off for so long). i've been writing it for the past few days and my autism has never worked so much in my favor.
i'll be cherry picking the best parts of canon and legends and this fic has grown to be it's own trilogy starting from pre-galactic civil war and to post return of the jedi.
i'll be posting it on ao3 for easier reading once i have five chapters finished with an average of 3k words. i'll also be moving to a new blog so my star wars writing blog will be my main account :)
is this because i have started getting into dc? yes. is it because i’m obsessed with hero villain stuff? also yes. also i’ll get to the requests soon!
cw: swearing, suggestive, hurt comfort if you squint
character A giving B instructions on how to bandage their wounds (jdjajdjakajsj)
^ *wince* ”would it kill you to be gentle?” “if you didn’t want it to hurt, you PROBABLY SHOULDN’T HAVE GOTTEN STABBED IN THE FIRST PLACE”
classic; A getting behind B to help them hold their weapon properly, guiding their arm, which just ends up in both of them getting flustered
“someone likes being pinned down”
A flirting with B while sparring to throw them off their tracks
“stop going easy on me” “that’s not what you said last ni-OUCH”
“…” “i’m fine i swear” “..are you serious rn” “it’s just a dislocated shoulder! i’ll be as good as new”
medic x hero/villain/something that requires fighting yk and they’re always worried ab their partner because the careless mf is always getting hurt
(works best for enemies to lovers) after a particularly intense session, A helps B patch up their wounds which requires B taking off their shirt, and A is definitely not staring wdym
^ also B noticing the staring and being the cocky asshole that they are, feels the need to comment on it “like what you see?”
“you know, if you wanted to see me naked you could’ve just asked, you didn’t have use stabbing me <and helping me fix it up> as an excuse”
“oh, is that a challenge?”
“sooo how was training with A? are they a good tutor?” “it was..definitely quite a workout”
as a threat, “i’m going to mess you up so bad you’re not going to be able to walk for a week” while the response is; “is that a promise?”
intense sparring somehow always turn into aggressive make out sessions?? who knows why
—BRUISES & BACTA PACKS
summary: just some good old-fashioned hurt/comfort
a/n: this was a request i got before i nuked my old blog so this is for you sweet anon
In just one day, the only life Kallus knew was over.
He was free from the Empire. The relief of a clear conscience was almost blissful, but he would’ve had to be blind to not notice the suspicion he was met with from his new allies.
The Rebels, many of whom had been injured during the attack on the Atollon base, glared heatedly towards him and the ISB armor he wore.
Kallus had no doubt they were projecting their hatred for the Empire and the pain of what they had lost onto him, but he couldn’t fault them for that.
So he kept to himself, despite the cramped hallway of the Ghost they shared. He grunted as he slowly sat down against the wall, stretching his legs out. Pain shot through him with every breath and he closed his eyes, focusing on controlling his breathing. For a man who fought a war from the safety of a Star Destroyer, Thrawn was utterly brutal in hand-to-hand combat.
Kallus was certain the Admiral had broken a rib, at the very least.
It wasn’t long before Kallus found himself drifting off to sleep, exhausted from combat, torture, and the adrenaline leaving his system now that he was something close to safe.
But only a few minutes passed before he was startled awake by a sharp noise. A door had opened on the opposite end of the hall and a familiar woman stepped through.
You kneeled beside the nearest wounded soldier, speaking softly as you held a flashlight to his eyes.
Kallus recognized you, of course. The Ghost crew’s medic; not officially a Specter but still an invaluable asset to the team. Back when he spent day and night hunting the Lothal Rebels, you had played a role in nearly every operation and he took it upon himself to find out all he could about you.
There hadn’t been much to find, however; all he knew was that you had been born on Hosnian Prime, attended the Imperial Academy to become a combat medic, and then abandoned your career for unknown reasons.
Not long ago, he had planned to capture you and use you as leverage against your Rebel friends, but they protected you too fiercely for him to even get close.
He watched you now as you made your way down the line of Rebels. Their injuries weren’t too severe, most only needing a bacta patch or spray; but you still took your time, only moving on when you were satisfied they were okay.
Kallus was up next. He tried to sit up straighter, but a sudden sharp pain quickly stopped him. You smoothed a bacta patch over the last shoulder’s arm and looked over at Kallus. He fought the urge to fix his hair. His anxiety must have shown on his face as your eyes softened and you gave him a kind smile, walking over to kneel at his side.
“Kallus,” you said, your voice barely above a gentle murmur, “you look awful.”
He chuckled and immediately regretted it. “I feel it, too. I’ve had a very bad day.”
“I’ve heard. Where does it hurt?”
Kallus patted his ribcage and you immediately got to work; skilled hands quickly removing his chestplate and the layered uniform underneath just enough for you to examine his torso.
You gently touched his ribs and Kallus flinched, both in pain and the heat of your palm as it moved down his side, applying just the slightest pressure to each rib. You were being as gentle as you could and that… meant something to him. He couldn’t remember the last time anyone had touched him with such care.
But perhaps he was reading too much into it. After living disconnected from others for so long, it was no wonder he would be affected by the slightest bit of compassion.
Your touch disappeared and Kallus opened his eyes — which had closed slipped without his notice — to see you rummaging through your medkit. He paled at the sight of several syringes in a neat row.
“Two of your ribs are bruised but not broken.” You pulled out a few bacta patches. “These will help with the pain, but don’t do anything strenuous for a few days.” You ripped the packets open with your teeth. Kallus helped by lifting his uniform so you could use both hands.
You gave him a grateful smile and again you touched him, warming the skin that had suddenly felt so cold. Kallus was glad you were so focused on treating him that you didn’t notice his blush.
Three patches of bacta were applied to his ribs, held in place by medical tape wrapped around his torso. You checked your work with a critical eye before you fixed his uniform. “Done. Now, let me take a look at your eye.”
You hovered your hands on either side of his head, silently asking if you could touch his face. He nodded and you cupped his jaw in your hands.
You gently tilted his head towards the light.
Oh.
With nowhere else to look but your face, it was as though Kallus was seeing you for the first time. And he thought you had an effect on him before. The light eclipsing over your shoulder made you look like an angel.
“It should heal just fine on its own,” you said, one hand moving to hold the back of his head as you picked up a thin metal tube, “but I’ll give you some bacta anyways.”
“Thank you for this.” Kallus murmured once you were done spraying his eye.
Your entire demeanor softened. Kallus wondered how often you got a “thank you” in your line of work. You patted his shoulder comfortingly. “You’re welcome, Kallus.”
“Alexsandr.”
He wasn’t sure why he wanted you to call him by his given name, but he couldn’t bring himself to regret it after hearing his name from your lips.
“Alexsandr.” You smiled. “Don’t be afraid to call for me if you need anything, alright?”
With that, you packed up the last of your supplies and gave him a tiny wave before you moved on to the next injured soldier. You spoke to her with the same gentle tone as you did him and he couldn’t help but feel… disappointed. Which was utterly ridiculous, he reprimanded himself.
You were a medic — of course you would treat everyone the same.
—ATTACHMENT, PART ONE
summary: attachments, possessions — these things are forbidden to jedi. but the jedi are dead and the boy calling himself starkiller is no jedi.
tags: enemies to lovers, mutual pining, redemption
a/n: my beloved starkiller fic, back from the dead and better written
The last stormtrooper fell with a dull thud. Your hands trembled around the hilt of your lightsaber.
You closed your eyes, slowing your breathing until the pounding in your ears faded and only once your hands stopped shaking did you deactivate your dualsaber, clipping it to your belt.
Avoiding looking at the bodies of the stormtroopers you had slain, you joined your master in the center of the Imperial station.
Kota was already firing off orders to his men. The soldiers, all seasoned veterans from the Clone Wars, followed his orders without question and started securing the station. You watched as they either completely ignored the bodies or pushed them out of the way like they were dead weight. Like they were never human to begin with. You wondered if you would ever be so unaffected by such a waste of life.
Through your troubled thoughts, a familiar feeling prodded at your mental shields, bringing with it warmth and a sense of slight worry.
You looked to your master to find he was already staring at you, concern etched into his brow. It was obvious he sensed your unease through the bond you shared. Shame from worrying the old man made you drop your gaze to the floor, the artificial world of Nar Shaddaa glittering beneath your boots. You pulled your thoughts close. Kota had enough to worry about without your lack of composure.
“General Kota!” One of the soldiers shouted, drawing your master’s attention away from you. A holoprojection of a light spacecraft of Imperial design appeared before you both. “He’s here.”
Your heart nearly stopped. You could feel it; the darkness creeping closer and closer, stronger than anything you had ever felt before. It could only be Lord Vader.
“I’ve finally drawn you out of hiding.” Kota murmured almost to himself, then ordered, “Lower the containment field on hangar twelve and tell the men to get into position.”
“Yes, General!”
“And you,” Kota turned to face you. “You need to get out of here. Now.”
You thought you would be ready for this. Your master had been certain that two Jedi attacking Imperial targets would be too much to resist for the Emperor’s enforcer, but that day had always felt so far off that it was easy to fool yourself into thinking it would never come. Your training was far from complete and Kota, the man who was both father and teacher to you, was ordering you to abandon him.
The idea alone caused your instincts to scream at you to stay, to fight at his side.
But before you could say a word, he raised his hand and interrupted, “I know what you’re going to say and I don’t want to hear it. We’ve talked about this, girl. You’re no match for Vader. You will die if you stay here and I’m not going to let that happen. There’s so few of us left.” While Kota’s words were blunt as ever, his voice was gentle as was his grip on your shoulders. He forced you to look him in the eye. “You’ll make a great Jedi someday, but for now; remember what I taught you, stay hidden, and I’ll come find you. I swear it.”
You bowed your head, fighting to speak around the burning in your throat, “Yes, Master. I’ll do as you say.”
Kota gave your shoulders one last squeeze. “Go. He’ll be here soon.”
There was some murmuring and you suddenly remembered you weren’t alone. The soldiers had all paused in their work to watch the scene between you two. But you weren’t embarrassed by the audience. After all, they had watched you grow up ever since Kota took you under his wing.
Each of them had played a role in your childhood; even the most hardened of Kota’s militia had a soft spot for you.
As you walked towards the station’s turbolift, the men and women nodded as you passed or patted you on the back. A few saluted. Kota’s unit was the closest thing you had to a family and the knowledge that most of them would be slaughtered by the Sith Lord settled heavily in your heart like a physical weight.
The lift’s doors opened. But you hesitated at its threshold. A thought pulled at you and you glanced over your shoulder. Kota stood in the room’s center, his lightsaber drawn. You had the most terrible feeling this would be the last time you ever saw him.
“Master!” You called out, prompting a bemused look from him. “May the Force be with you.”
Kota huffed, annoyed in his own affectionate way, “And with you, Padawan.”
Your mind and spirit a little more at peace, you stepped into the lift and let the door slide shut.
“Care to explain what we’re doing here on Onderon?” Juno Eclipse asked as she guided the Rogue Shadow through the planet’s colorful atmosphere. “A planet with a heavy Imperial presence, I might add.”
“Good question.” Starkiller spun around in the co-pilot’s seat to face Kota, who had been unusually taciturn the whole journey to the Japrael system. He kicked the blind man’s boot to get his attention. “What are we here for, General?”
Kota sat back in his seat, inhaling deeply. “My Padawan.”
“You have a Padawan? Since when?” Starkiller couldn’t keep the surprise out of his voice. There was no mention of any Padawan in imperial records or PROXY would have warned him before his mission to assassinate Kota. He ignored the lingering guilt that came with that memory.
The old Jedi leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “After the Jedi Order fell, I went looking for survivors. The Force brought me to Corellia. I found a little girl, strong in the Force and hiding from Vader’s Inquisitors.” He chuckled at some fond, distant memory. “Clever little thing. Managed to give me the slip a couple times before I proved she could trust me. I took her on as my student and we’ve been together ever since. She has more mastery of the Force than even some members of the Jedi Council did.”
“Approaching Iziz now.” Juno announced, giving Starkiller a pointed look.
“Get to the point, old man.”
Kota frowned at being hurried. “I promised her we would see each other again, but… well—” He gestured to his ruined eyes. “The point is, she’ll join your cause and inspire others to do so as well. I’m sure of it.”
Starkiller thought for a moment. “How do you know for sure she’s here on Onderon?”
“We had a plan in case we were ever separated. If she listened to me, she’ll be here.”
If. Not very reassuring.
Starkiller turned his seat back towards the viewport. They were quickly coming up on the capital city.
He couldn’t think of anything less he wanted to do than hunt down some Padawan on an unfamiliar planet, but building an army to challenge the Emperor had slowed to a crawl with too many potential allies intimidated by the Empire’s strength. Jedi were rare but still highly respected in the galaxy. Some had trusted him almost immediately because of the blue lightsabers he wielded.
The Jedi still meant something to people; a symbol of hope, of justice. He knew he could never live up to that ideal, but if Kota was right about his apprentice…
“Alright, we’ll do this your way, General. Take us down.”
“I’ll get you as close to the city gates as I can.” Juno’s hands flurried over the controls to start the landing sequence. “Good luck finding your Padawan, Master Jedi.”
Starkiller had visited many cities on dozens of different worlds but he had never been anywhere quite like Iziz.
It had been easy to get past the city gates with so many farmers passing through to sell their wares. The stormtroopers on the parapets seemed to be more for show than actually watching the people entering the city. The hordes of people led them through the streets to a sprawling and colorful marketplace.
He could sense the market was the beating heart of Iziz; lifeforms of all kinds making up a bustling crowd, endless shops and stalls in every direction — even street performers plucking instruments or dancing to their own rhythms. A sweet smelling smoke hung in the air, filling his lungs and making his mouth water. And despite the chaos and stormtroopers mingling with the crowd, it was oddly peaceful.
The planet had in small, seemingly insignificant ways, maintained its unique culture in spite of the Imperial occupation.
“So.” Starkiller said once he and Kota reached the market’s center. “Where will we find this Padawan—”
There was no answer and Starkiller turned to find Kota had stopped at a small stall selling colorful fruit. He fought the urge to roll his eyes at the old man’s antics as he backtracked, narrowly dodging a group of giggling children running through the street.
“I’ll take two.” He heard Kota say, pointing to a large, plump red-orange fruit. The merchant, a Pantoran man, eyed the covering over Kota’s eyes and then Starkiller as he approached.
Starkiller crossed his arms, glaring at the man. The Pantoran quickly took Kota’s credits and handed over the bagged fruit.
“Can we focus on why we’re here, General?” Starkiller’s patience was already running thin.
Kota’s head snapped towards him as if he was surprised he was still there. “By all means, my boy. No need to wait on me.”
The Jedi walked to a small stone staircase in the shade between two buildings, plopping down on the first step. He pulled one of the fruits from the cloth bag and took a large bite out of it.
Realization dawned on Starkiller. “You have no idea where she is, do you?”
Kota’s chewing slowed. He took his time swallowing, as though considering how much he wanted to share. “Before I lost my connection to the Force, my Padawan and I shared a bond.” He explained, his voice ladened with sadness. “I was always aware of her presence. I knew where she was, what she was feeling. I never thought I would lose that bond so it’s up to you to find her now. I can’t.”
Starkiller scanned the crowd. It was no Coruscant, but the Force still roared with thousands of voices — too many to single one out from the rest. “How do you expect me to find her in all of this?” He demanded, throwing an arm out to the throngs of people.
Kota huffed. “The old fashioned way; by looking.”
Now Starkiller did roll his eyes. “Can you at least tell me what I’m looking for? Is she human?”
“You’ll know her when you see her, boy. She’s strong in the Force — not unlike yourself. It should be easy for you to find a single Padwan in a crowd.”
The old man returned to his fruit, apparently finished doling out sage wisdom.
Starkiller marched away and with no clear direction to go, he joined the flow of the crowd again, wandering through brightly-colored aisles and dodging pushy vendors while keeping an eye out for… something. He slowed to a stop and reached out, allowing his Force to spread throughout the marketplace as a whole. Voices and thoughts that were not his own overwhelmed his senses and he could only endure for a few moments more until he cut himself off.
And there he sensed it; the unmistakable presence of a Jedi. A powerful one. Bright and tranquil, yet it was barely a whisper among the cacophony of life surrounding him.
He pinched the bridge of his nose, the beginnings of a migraine throbbing through his skull.
“Hey, civilian!” A modulated voice barked behind him.
Starkiller looked over his shoulder. Two stormtroopers stood behind him, their blaster rifles level to their chests.
“You’re blocking the road.” The trooper on the right said, gesturing with his rifle. “Move along.”
He was not blocking the road. There was plenty of space for them to go around him, but still he mumbled a soft apology and stepped aside, his back pressed against the post of an abandoned stall. He hoped they wouldn’t ask for his identification. He was strong in the Force, but he had never mastered the art of mind tricks and he had a feeling Kota’s Padawan would vanish at the first sign of trouble.
But the stormtroopers didn’t spare him a second glance as they marched past.
Once they were out of earshot, Starkiller sighed in relief and tilted his head back against the wooden post. He followed the troopers with his eyes as their stark white helmets bobbed through the crowd.
Something compelled him to keep his attention on them and there it was again —- a whisper in the Force, growing louder and louder.
His eyes picked out a figure moving through the throngs of people; a woman swathed in light, flowing robes with her face concealed by a low hood, a satchel thrown over her shoulder. She confidently strode past the stormtroopers as one of them stopped to watch her past.
Starkiller straightened up as she came closer. She tilted her head to look at him. Most of her face was hidden by her hood, but he could make out the curve of her cheek, a long thin braid woven with beads and strips of colorful cloth, and there wasn’t a trace of fear in her eyes as she stared back at him.
For one split moment, he could feel the depths of her strength in the Force. He could drown in it.
She turned her head and continued walking.
Starkiller pushed himself off the post, quickly falling into step behind the girl. She walked at an unhurried pace yet he had no doubt she knew she was being followed. But where she was able to move through the crowd with grace, Starkiller kept running into people and resorted to skirting around them and pushing back when they got in his way, ignoring the shouting he left in his wake.
He started gaining ground. The edge of her cloak was just within his reach — then the leg of a massive creature cut him off.
Starkiller stumbled backwards, nearly tripping over his own feet. He somehow hadn’t noticed a long caravan of farmers and their beasts of burden moving through the marketplace. The reptilian beasts were slow moving, at least three meters tall, and when he looked through the gaps between them, he could see the Padawan disappearing into the crowd.
She would be gone by the time he found a way around.
Starkiller took a few steps back, gathering the Force. He launched himself over one of the behemoths, landing on his feet on the other side. The beast startled and threw off the load it was carrying, forcing him to roll to avoid being crushed.
The farmer leading the creature shouted at him, but his only focus was on finding the Padawan. He caught sight of her dipping into an alleyway and broke into a sprint after her.
The roar of the crowd faded behind him as he pursued the girl through cramped alleys and empty streets as they raced further and further from the marketplace. But just like before, she somehow kept several steps ahead of him. It was starting to get on his nerves, but he also had to admire her stamina. It had been a long time since a target had challenged him.
But just as he followed her turn into another long alleyway, he was met with empty space. His chest heaved to catch his breath as he looked behind him, confused. There was nowhere for her to have gone.
Then he heard a distinctive hum above him.
Starkiller glanced upwards just in time to draw his lightsaber to block her lightsaber. He used her own momentum to throw her off of him and she rolled into a low crouch beyond his reach, gripping a white-bladed dualsaber with both hands.
Her hood fell away from her face. She glared at him. She shined in the Force. Beautiful in a way he’s ever known.
“I don’t want to hurt you, girl.” He switched off his lightsaber in an attempt to look non-threatening. “But you’re coming with me.
The Jedi dropped her satchel from her shoulder, down to her hand, and hurled it towards his face. Starkiller raised his arm to block it, but the bag was much heavier than he was expecting and he smacked himself in the face, his nose stinging from the blow.
“Ow! What’re you—”
She lunged at him, swinging low. Their blades crashed —blue against white— and they left scorch marks on the narrow walls as they pushed and shoved against each other. She met him blow for blow.
She aimed a kick at his chest and he easily caught her ankle. He could’ve easily cleaved her leg at the knee, but he only threw her off balance.
The Padawan recovered quickly, holding her dualsaber out in a guarded stance. He saw Kota’s training in the way her feet were planted firmly on the ground.
Starkiller advanced, taking his other lightsaber in hand as he charged at her. Unfazed by his change of tactics, she countered his restrained strikes until her onslaught put him on the defensive. She used the wall to launch herself over him but he easily swung his lightsaber behind him, protecting his back from her blade.
Before she could touch the ground, Starkiller pivoted on his heel and thrust his arms out, throwing her out onto the street. Her back hit a stone wall and she landed in a heap on the ground.
He walked slowly towards her. The Padawan groaned in pain, but she still pushed herself to stand, pulling her lightsaber to her with the Force.
“Wait — just listen to me, Jedi.” Starkiller implored, returning his lightsabers to his belt and holding a hand out to her.
She panted for air, eyeing him suspiciously.
“I was sent to find you. Your master—”
“Oh, good. You found her.”
They both snapped their heads towards Kota walking towards them, still holding that stupid bag of fruit.
“…Master?”
You almost didn’t recognize him. Obviously, he hadn’t been taking care of himself; his hair was matted and falling out of a sloppily tied knot, his armor was gone, his clothes torn and a strip of cloth covered his eyes, but what you found most disturbing was that the bond that once flowed so strong between you had gone silent.
It was as if he wasn’t even there.
You slowly lowered your lightsaber. “Master, what’s happened to you? Why can’t I feel you?”
“A lot has happened, Padawan, but we’ll talk about it later.” He said, grabbing your attacker’s shoulder amicably. “This is Starkiler. He’s got a plan to destroy the Empire and we need your help.”
Your gaze shifted back to the man who had chased you all over Iziz. Even without the Force, you would still be able to sense he was incredibly dangerous; his furrowed brow and the way he carried himself so aggressively put you on edge.
The Dark Side clung to him like a second skin. Rotting him from the inside out. How could your master be in league with someone like him?
“Padawan? You alright?” Kota asked, worried at your silence. You hadn’t realized how much you missed his voice until that moment.
“Yes. I’m fine. I just…”
You choked up. You could feel the sting of tears and instead of trying to put into words of how lonely the last few months had been, you rushed to your master and wrapped your arms around him, burying your face in his shoulder. Kota grunted in surprise but quickly reciprocated, one hand cradling your head and the other patting your back. Just like he did when you were little.
He… didn’t smell the best but he was warm and alive and that’s all that mattered to you.
Starkiller looked up at the darkening sky to avoid the tender scene happening next to him.
You and Kota let go of eachother. He squeezed your shoulders and you grasped his forearms in return. “C’mon.” He said. “We better get a move on.”
“Wait!” You turned back towards the alley, where your satchel and its contents were thrown on the ground.
Starkiller watched as you rushed over and started gathering your belongings. His nose still throbbed in pain, but it was mostly his bruised ego that made him snap at you, “What do you even have in there? Rocks?”
“Jedi texts, actually.” You said excitedly, ignoring or not even noticing his tone. You placed the tomes in your satchel with great care. “I bought them for almost nothing. I doubt the merchant even realized what they were. One of these was written by Master Yoda over two-hundred…” You trailed off and smiled at him somewhat apologetically. “I’m… sorry. About earlier. Is your face okay?”
Kota tilted his head to Starkiller.
“She hit me in the face with her bag.” Starkiller mumbled.
The old man tossed his head back, barking in laughter.
You flustered, “I thought you were an Inquisitor! And you were the one chasing me! Were you expecting me to be friendly?”
“If you listened to me, we could’ve avoided all this wasted time!”
“Alright, alright — enough you two.” Kota chuckled as he calmed down. “We gotta get out of here before someone comes to check out all the noise. Oh, wait — almost forgot.” He held out the bag he had been holding to you. Inside, you found a perfectly ripe meiloorun; a childhood favorite of yours. “Thought you’d be hungry.”
You could’ve cried from the thoughtful gesture. “Thank you, Master.”
You and Kota set off towards the city gates, Starkiller close behind.
Starkiller’s starship —the Rogue Shadow, he called it— came into view, cleverly hidden amongst the dense foliage of the jungle beyond Iziz. The ship’s lights cast a warm glow but your blood ran cold at the sight of it. You knew that ship. Kota’s hand on your back kept you pushing forward.
“Ah, welcome home, Master!” A slouched, seemingly half-assembled droid greeted as it noticed your group approaching. “I see you were successful in your mission.”
It plodded down the ship’s loading ramp and right up to you, invading your personal space and putting its faceplate uncomfortably close to your face. It felt like he was studying every pore, every flaw.
“Um… hello…?”
You earned only a thoughtful hum in reply.
“PROXY, give her some room, please.” A woman’s voice said and the droid obeyed. The owner of the voice, a tall blonde woman clad in an oil-stained flight suit, stepped out from underneath the ship’s hull. She politely wiped her hand clean on a rag before holding it out to you, smiling warmly. “Juno Eclipse. It’s a pleasure to meet you; General Kota spoke very highly of you.”
You took her hand. You liked her already. At the very least, you knew you would have an easier time with her than Starkiller.
You heard an odd noise, like a machine whirring to life and in the droid’s place stood a perfect mirror image of you, imitating your posture and looking back at you with devoid eyes. You self-consciously tucked your Padawan braid behind your ear. Did you really look like that?
“PROXY, knock it off.” Starkiller ordered and your doppelganger faded away.
“Now that you’re here,” Juno said, “I’ll set you up with a bunk and give you the tour.” She beckoned you to follow her up the loading ramp. Kota gently pushed you towards her, giving you a reassuring nod.
At the top of the ramp, away from Kota and Starkiller’s ears, Juno grabbed your arm and leaned in conspiratorially. “If I’m being completely honest with you,” she whispered, glancing down at the men, “I’m glad there’s another woman joining us. Too much testosterone for my taste.”
You shared a grin before heading inside.
Most of your life has been spent on starships. Kota thought it was wise to constantly keep on the move, especially with a youngling under his care. You grew into adulthood surrounded by stars and the flow of hyperspace; rarely ever feeling dirt, grass or sand beneath your feet.
The ship Kota and his men had traveled in — a relic from their service during the Clone Wars — had truly felt like a home, filled with warmth in the void of space. It was your home and in many ways, always would be.
On the other hand, Starkiller’s ship was cold. Impersonal. A tool to be used and cast aside when it was no longer useful. There was no history etched onto its walls, no personal belongings scattered about — nothing to indicate anybody even lived within the ship’s hull. The ship as a whole felt oppressive and uncomfortable. You doubted you would ever be able to fully relax here.
Once Juno was satisfied you were well acquainted with the layout of the ship, she led you to the cockpit.
The conversation you heard from outside abruptly stopped when the door opened. Kota sat in the co-pilot’s chair with Starkiller standing beside him. They turned their attention to you.
“Master. I think it’s time we had that talk.”
Starkiller bounced his leg impatiently.
Kota and the girl were taking too long. They had shut themselves in the common room, far enough to keep their conversation private but he could still hear the occasional raised voice. The longer they took, the worse his anxiety grew.
“I wonder what they’re talking about…” Juno mused. “You don’t think she suspects that you’re the one who—“
“If she did, I don’t think she would have come willingly.” Starkiller interrupted. He didn’t need to be reminded of what he did that day.
Juno frowned, not nearly as self-assured.
“I like her.” PROXY declared from his corner of the cockpit.
The door to the cockpit hissed open. You stepped through, Kota trailing behind you. You had taken off your cloak, revealing the inconspicuous street clothes you wore underneath and the dualsaber clipped to your belt. You fixed your gaze on Starkiller.
“My master has asked me to help with your training as a Jedi and build your Rebellion.” You said, “I want the Empire gone and the Jedi restored just as much as you do. I want to help you, but you need to be willing to learn from us. So, if you’ll have me, I’ll join in your fight against the Empire.”
Starkiller rose from his seat and held his hand out to you. You looked down at it, smothering the revulsion you felt at the thought of touching him.
i don't know if anyone remembers, but i used to have a sw blog called xsithempirex that i had to delete because of irl reasons. i've had the itch to start writing for star wars again so i'll be posting soon!
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