Chapter Text
When the Ebon Hawk was finally relinquished back to him, Doran immediately scoured the ship for anything unfamiliar. While he did not know the ship inside out yet, he was quite familiar with things that should not be on a ship. Luckily, there was almost nothing out of place. Almost. Something was new, but he couldn’t tell what.
Immediately upon boarding the Hawk, Doran’s party had splintered to far corners of the freighter so as to spend as little time near one another as possible. Kreia retreated to the crew quarters portside, Atton to the cockpit and Bao-Dur to the engine room to tinker. Wherever Doran walked on the ship, T3 followed closely at his heels.
“I appreciate the fresh set of eyes– Well, optics, I guess. But do you have to push me?” Doran looked down at the astromech, who chirped indignantly in response. The Mirialan conceded with a shrug. “I suppose you’d know better than me.”
Doran had learnt by now not to ask T3 about the Ebon Hawk, or much of anything at all. Droids were indeed the best secret keepers. They patrolled together from starboardside to the central chamber. The circular console in the centre flickered to life along with the ship, the rumble of the engines filling the empty space in Doran’s ears. Everything was so damn quiet, he couldn’t stand it.
Out of the corner of his eye, in a storage compartment that Doran believed to be sealed shut, was quite a sight indeed. An abnormally tall droid, hunched over and rusted red, was nestled in the tiny corner, hidden away like an old toy. As Doran drew closer, he recognised the shape of the droid’s parts as nearly identical to the so-called ‘assassination droids’ that had tailed him since Peragus. Out of commission as this one was, he frowned at how old it seemed.
“Friend of yours?” He said to T3. The astromech beeped curtly. “Never in your life, huh?”
It was hard to tell when a droid was lying, but Doran trusted his instincts. Upon inspecting the damaged droid unit further, he could spot a few gaps through the plated exterior. Perhaps he could speak to Bao-Dur about fixing it. Or they could just leave it there. The robot assassins following him around were enough. He moved on from there, giving the empty medbay a single glance and briefly waving to Bao-Dur, who had a screwdriver sticking out of his robotic shoulder. Then, the pair moved on to the cargo hold.
As soon as Doran crossed the threshold, he knew that this was the place to be. Whether the Force or his paranoia was guiding him was not something he wanted to unpack right now, because something in that room was not supposed to be there. His eyes scanned over everything in sight, the various empty storage containers strewn about the room, the rations compartment, everything he could see. T3 didn’t leave his side, making a low, nervous beep as he looked around. Doran ventured further inside towards a cluster of containers in the corner. The closer he came to it, the more he was able to confirm that the Force was guiding him. Impossible as that seemed, he had to ignore it, because huddled between crates was an extremely familiar young woman, all clad in white. Doran suppressed a groan. He was under the impression that his business with Atris and her handmaidens was to be brief. Their eyes locked. Neither spoke for a long moment.
“How long were you planning to stay in here?” Doran finally asked. The Handmaiden’s eyes widened slightly.
“Until I had to eat, I suppose.” She said, “How did you know I was in here?”
Doran ignored the real answer, choosing instead to shrug and tiptoe around it. “I figured Atris wouldn’t let us leave without a condition or two. I didn’t think she’d use you as collateral, though.”
“You make it sound worse than it is.”
The Handmaiden moved to stand up, to clamber out from her hiding spot, but T3 darted forwards as far as he could without bumping into anything. At first, it was hard to tell if the Handmaiden actually understood what the droid was saying, or if she was just startled by how loud and aggressive his beeps were.
“What is it so upset for? Can’t you tell it to stop?” She exclaimed, pressing herself back against the wall. Doran eased the droid with a pat to his flat head, though that earned an irritated whine.
“He’s not happy about you hijacking the ship while he was still onboard.”
“Oh.” She looked sheepishly between Doran and T3 before fixing a stern gaze on the droid. “I will not apologise for doing as instructed, I’m sure you would do the same.”
T3 gave a series of irritated whistles before turning around and whirring out of the cargo hold in a huff. The Handmaiden climbed from her hiding spot to watch him leave, then stood straight. She had all the diligence and eagerness of a fresh faced soldier, but her expression was as cold as someone who had fought many battles. Doran felt it necessary to match her solemnity.
“I was instructed to join you, though my mistress did not think you would take the suggestion well. You will have a better chance of finding the Jedi and eliminating the Sith threat with my help.”
“I don’t doubt that.” Doran admitted. “And I don’t suppose we’re in a position to send you home?”
The Handmaiden shook her head. “You couldn’t even if you wanted to. I’m here to stay.”
Wonderful. At least this one seemed the least like the other Handmaidens Doran spoke to in the Academy, in both face and in nature. She had something to prove, Doran thought, and that was either to herself or to Atris. If it was the latter, then they definitely had something in common.
“Alright, welcome aboard. I’ll let the others know you’re here.” He turned aside to leave, “You don’t have to stay in here, though.”
She shook her head again, lowering her hood. “I don’t mind it in here, I’ve lived in worse conditions. I can attend to myself.”
If there ever was a signal to not ask about something, that was it. Doran made his exit, standing in the corridor for the moment as he considered how he was going to broach the subject of a new person in the group. Bao-Dur would be reluctant, but he wasn’t one to cause trouble. Atton would have something to say, though, and Doran dreaded whatever it was. Then there was Kreia. He looked to his left, where the corridor turned into the crew quarters on that side of the ship. Kreia was surely meditating, as she usually tended to do. Doran’s expression twisted into a frown. If he had felt the Handmaiden’s presence, then it was fair to say that she had felt it too. If she had known something was off, why didn’t she say anything?
Doran was not surprised by this revelation, and that only gave him room to be incredibly irritated about it instead. He walked forwards, crossing through the central chamber, past the communications room, and entered the cockpit. Better to get the most difficult part over with first. As he walked in, Atton had turned his head before Doran even opened his mouth.
“Oh, it’s just you.” He eased into a much flatter tone, “Hold on, let me concentrate on getting us out of the atmosphere.”
Doran remained silent as he watched Atton’s deft hands move over the controls. The ship lifted off from the Academy’s hangar, coming out somewhere on the side of the arctic plateau they had crashed on hours before. Looking down at the plateau’s surface, snow had fallen so rapidly that it covered all evidence of the shuttle crash, save for the wreck of the shuttle itself. The Hawk arced upwards, cutting through the grim clouds until the sky darkened into space. Flecks of snow on the wide windows became distant stars. Doran smoothed out his hair over his shoulder, finding the courage to speak up as the ship left the view of Citadel Station.
“Who did you think I was?”
“The old bat.” Despite that, he didn’t sound much happier. “Where are we headed first, then? I need to punch in the hyperspace coordinates.”
Doran considered for a moment. In truth, he was in no rush to go anywhere near the Onderon system just yet, the same with Dantooine. It wasn’t so much a case of running from the past as it was a desire to leave it to the side for as long as possible. Letting it remain stagnant in a corner of his mind so it could rot, so that when he revisited it, it would not cause him pain. He inclined his head towards Atton.
“Where do you suggest we begin?”
Atton’s brow quirked, as though impressed he was capable of asking. He didn’t hesitate to mess with the controls, the stars outside stretching impossibly thin and painting the cockpit in dim blue light.
“We’re best starting on Nar Shaddaa, think we could use the chance to lay low. Then again, given how this has gone so far, we might not have that luxury for too long after we land.”
Doran ignored the snide comment in favour of his own. “Thank goodness we have an expert in that regard.”
“Flattery won’t get you anywhere with me.” Atton looked him up and down, “Unless you’re more flattering than that.”
“Remind me to insult you later on to balance it out.” Doran responded, approaching to lean against the co-pilot’s seat. “I just came to tell you we have someone new on board.”
Atton didn’t even attempt to hide his annoyance. “You’re kidding. I didn’t see anyone come on with us.”
“Probably because she didn’t want you to. It’s one of Atris’ Handmaidens. The smaller one, I think.”
“Oh, like that narrows it down.” Atton groaned, arms crossed over his chest like a grumpy teenager. “Just great, thank you so much for letting me know. Where is she now?”
“Cargo hold.”
“Yeah, well, she can stay there.”
“Don’t make any problems, Atton,” Doran said warningly, though more than anything else he sounded tired of him already, “she’s here to help us, that’s the most important thing.”
He watched Atton’s face twist into a frown before he turned away, facing the lights of hyperspace. He was so stubborn, Doran had to wonder how he’d made it this far in the first place.
“You won’t have to worry about me.”
Doran scoffed and rolled his eyes, yet stayed in spite of his growing frustration. What was he trying to prove, keeping a straight face in front of Atton? Just to show he could? It was even harder to wonder what Atton got out of it. Unless provoking people was all he knew how to do.
“Why are you still here?” He blurted, only realising how it sounded when Atton turned back to him with narrowed eyes. Oops.
“Gee, how sweet of you.”
“I mean– You don’t exactly sound enthusiastic to be here. I’ve been dragging you around since Peragus, at least Bao-Dur had a choice in all this.” Doran held his hands up, softening his voice into something a little less accusatory. “I’m just saying. There’s nothing wrong with a good sense of self-preservation.”
Doran watched Atton’s jaw clench and unclench, his brown eyes boring into his dark ones. If he dared to feel for the prickles of the Force surrounding Atton like a cactus, Doran would find himself at a metaphysical wall. Whether that wall was from his still-healing connection to the Force, or from Atton himself, he couldn’t tell. Figuring that out wasn’t his priority.
“Well, that’s not exactly something I’m known for.” The aggravated edge to Atton’s voice was gone, replaced with a heaviness Doran wasn’t sure he should comment on.
“Then what are you known for?”
“Minding my own business.” He said pointedly. “But you aren’t getting rid of me that easy. I’m here, and that’s all there is to it.”
Lips forming a tight line, Doran nodded. Atton probably still didn’t trust him, and that was fine, but it would’ve been easier if he was honest about it. He already trusted Bao-Dur with his life, was willing to put his trust in the Handmaiden, and he was even willing to extend the same to Kreia. He wouldn’t let that slip with Atton.
“Alright, I won’t say any more on the matter.” Doran stood straight, half turned towards the doorway. “Thank you for being here, then. I’ll leave you to it.”
Before he turned away, he caught the surprise on Atton’s face, as though no one had said such a thing to him before. He didn’t dwell on it, walking out of the cockpit and exhaling slowly. His chest thumped as though he’d been holding his breath the whole time. Had he not noticed how anxious he was that whole time? Or was it just relief that the conversation was over? Doran pushed it down and crossed the central room, walking with as much purpose as he could to the portside quarters. He was smart enough to recognise when he was being emotional. Some cynicism might clear his mind.
He stood in the wide doorway. Kreia was on her knees, facing away from him, her head bowed in deep meditation. To wonder if she had sensed him coming would be pointless, so he walked right in to stand across from her. She did not look up.
“What troubles you now?” She asked, though it was obvious she already knew the answer. Doran sighed and knelt down in front of her. Her right hand was clasped over the stump of her left.
“More than I could ever say.” He began. “The Handmaiden. I believe Atris thinks we will fail. Why else would she send her along?”
“An extra tool, a blade and nothing more. In her eyes, there is little room for failure.”
“And you think differently?”
The answer did not come immediately. Doran was forced into an expectant silence, latent background noise coming into the forefront. Down the hall, the hyperdrive and the engine hummed in tandem. Footfalls of the rest of the crew fell like raindrops in a puddle, rippling so loud that Doran could not help but listen. It calmed him, and the fact that it calmed him scared him.
“I think you should not base your anxieties on the feelings of someone who doesn't trust you.” Kreia finally replied, her tone not changing once. “You have other things to fear, and it is not Atris. Nor is it the Force.”
“I’m not scared of the–” He started stubbornly, but the retort shrivelled and died as soon as Kreia’s head lifted, her thin lips curled downwards into a frown. “It just feels as though everything is happening for the first time. It’s overwhelming after so long.”
“And yet, you are the furthest thing from a Padawan.”
He lowered his gaze to his hands. Somewhere over the last decade, his knuckles grew calloused and puckered with scars from unsavoury moments. The edges of his tattooed wrists peeked out from his robes. He hadn’t gotten another since the war. He hadn’t done anything worth marking. The thought of marking himself again sickened him somewhat.
“May I stay?” He whispered, putting his hands on his knees. Kreia inclined her head slightly, her expression returning to neutrality.
“If it will put you at ease. You will need it for what is to come.”
Doran did not doubt that for a second. He closed his eyes, relinquishing his base senses for what the Force was begging him to feel. He stood at the edge of a vast ocean, endlessly wide as it was deep. Instead of running from the tide when it came, he would have to let himself get wet. That was always the scariest part.