Chapter Text
“You know, it really disturbs young Atton that you’re getting along with the Mandalorians so well.” Atton’s holo image wavered slightly, evidence of either the incomplete repairs to the Ebon Hawk’s systems or the apparently incessant Dxun rain interfering with the signal.
Vela tipped her head to the side, chin propped on stacked fists. She was stretched out on her stomach in the bunker Mandalore had afforded them in the camp. The cot she was lying on was no luxury, but few people had the opportunity to receive accommodations from Mandalorians on such good terms. In that regard, she figured she should feel honored.
“Young Atton?” she said. “So that means I’m speaking to… who, old Atton?”
He made a pained noise and leaned back from the holo, clutching at his chest. “You wound me!”
She rolled her eyes but grinned at his antics anyway. More of the Hawk’s cockpit came into view as he pressed backward into the pilot’s seat – she wanted to get back to the ship and the rest of the crew. It was strange to be so separated for so long.
“I demand recompense – tell me how youthful and handsome I am.” He’d started the calls to keep her up to date on the repairs that had him sequestered to the Hawk and to check what progress she’d made without him. And even when they ran out of things to report, they never ran out of things to talk about.
“I do know what you mean, you know.”
“Oh, I know,” he said with a wink.
“No,” she laughed, “About the Mandalorians. I’m afraid young Vela would agree with young Atton. The Mandalorian War may be over, but the scars are permanent.” She’d been just as affected as anyone else by the brutality and slaughter the people of the Republic had suffered at the hands of the Mandalorians, Jedi code or no. When she and Atton had finally discussed his past, in the grassy peace of Dantooine where the stillness made a perfect backdrop for their bitter and pained words, she’d felt the plight of soldiers like him as vividly as before. She’d remembered exactly what had brought her to disregard the Council and join Revan.
The feelings responsible for her ever having held the title of General. And exile.
Atton’s demeanor shifted to a solemnity that did indeed make him look older. “Yeah, that’s for sure. I guess it’s a good thing we’re not quite the same as we were then.”
“I guess it is.” Her eyes lost focus as she was drawn years into the past to the decision that changed everything… and to the first time she’d set foot on Dxun, when it was her battlefield. She’d all but forgotten where she was when Atton spoke up again, voice now filled with the usual devil-may-care levity.
“You still haven’t told me how handsome I am, V. Don’t think you can distract me.”
Everything snapped into focus again. She would probably never find the words to tell him about the clarifying effect he had on her, even by the silliest means. And she’d never be able to thank him enough for all that he was.
So she simply made a show of weighing his statement, saying, “Honesty may not be explicitly mentioned in the Jedi Code, but it’s certainly an important virtue for one. I have to be sure it’s actually true before I say that.”
She let her eyes rove over his slightly grainy image, pretending to carefully appraise his features even though she knew them well. The tousled hair. The bottomless browns of his eyes. The strength in the cut of his jaw. The deceptively casual set of his shoulders. Force, when had she first come to know them so well? She’d found some time ago, since setting out into the Dxun jungle without him, that by just closing her eyes she could conjure a clear and detailed image of Atton in her mind. Vela could see him so vividly that it was nearly like reaching through the Force for him, such was the living energy the imagined Atton held. The wear on his jacket. His holstered blasters – and now his sabers.
Even the cards in his pazaak side deck.
When this realization struck her, the first explanation had been that it was a side effect of the mental shielding tactic he’d taught her as they were flying through hyperspace one day. You’ll be right here with me, his words echoed still in her memory, playing pazaak where they can’t reach you.
A little jolt ran along her senses as she remembered it, and she wondered quickly if it was Atton, if he’d heard her somehow and his reaction had slipped away from him down the bond between them.
But no, it wasn’t the Force at all. Vela realized reaction was entirely her own. Something to do with the warmth and unexpected gentleness with which he’d said those words to her and the pleasant feeling she got from observing him this way, unguarded and teasing.
“Well?” he said, oblivious to the thoughts she entertained while they spoke, “Are you going to share your evaluation? You may as well just admit it; I know it’s why you keep me around.”
Not his paradoxical loyalty. Or his incredible resolve. Or the light she saw so clearly in his soul.
“I keep you around for a decent game of pazaak.”
He made a noncommittal noise, and for a moment there was silence. Atton stared out of the holo at her, and Vela gazed back. Neither gave voice to whatever they were thinking. Neither looked away from the depth of meaning she had hidden well behind that flat, joking statement, yet they both new was there. And despite not yet having been able to reach out through the Force to touch her thoughts, he seemed to sense the place her words had bled from. An untouched place they had not dared walk yet, for fear of what that journey may entail. “You have your deck on you?”
As a man who often found himself in need of an escape route, he was more than apt at steering their conversations through them.
“Always.”