Because everything the Exile has done for everyone, it's always been because she cared.

Disclaimer: I do not own Star Wars or KOTOR II. They belong to George Lucas and Obsidian.


The entire Medbay was utterly silent as Mical looked over Meetra's seemingly endless amount of wounds. Every member of the Ebon Hawk's crew had their own fair share of battle scars that Malachor had inflected upon them, but their fearless leader had received the worst of it. The only person on-board the ship now who seemed to be suffering worse was Atton, his pain only increased by seeing the woman who had saved him in such a critical condition.

"Well, I've done everything I possibly can." Mical said, turning away from where Meetra continued to lay silent, various strands of her dirty brown hair covering her forehead and eyes.

"And what the hell does that mean?" Atton replied, taking a step towards the younger man while he continued to clutch at the wound in his side. There was still a large amount of dried blood surrounding the slash that he had received from his battle with Sion, but he carried on regardless.

"It means that I've done all I can. I can't do anything more with the equipment we have on board."

"I swear if she dies, I'll kill you." There was a certain darkness in his voice as Atton spoke, his words being met with silence from the rest of the crew that surrounded him.

"Atton, you're hurt much worse than the rest of us, why don't you let the Disciple look at your wounds?" Brianna said, taking a step towards the man. Her own white robes were tattered and torn, and covered in their own fair share of dried blood from the various Sith assassins she had cut down over the course of the past day. As he turned back to her, Atton's eyes were filled with a fire that defied explanation.

"Handmaiden, back off." He answered, hissing slightly as the pain in his wound flared up again.

"Easy there killer, we don't need to start turning on ourselves so soon after we took out the threat that we've all been facing." Mandalore said, his voice sounding strange without the oh-so familiar Mandalorian mask over his face. Still, his presence was as intimidating as he looked at the two Jedi.

"Funny, I seem to remember you wanting to leave her behind to rejoin your clan." As the words left his lips, everyone that surrounded Atton grew silent.

"Alright, I've had enough of this. Atton, sit down before I shoot you out the airlock myself!" Mira suddenly shouted, her hand trembling as she spoke. Her own face was covered with blood and mud, evidence of her the final battle that had taken place between herself and the crazed Wookiee Hanharr. Staring at her, Atton pushed past the huntress and out in the connecting hallway. He walked with a visible limp in his steps, and as he headed towards the cockpit, Brianna followed him, offering no explanation other than her presence.

As he carefully leaned back into the pilot's seat, Atton closed his eyes as he attempted to purge any pain from his body, the techniques that Meetra had taught him slowly starting to take effect. Kneeling beside him, Brianna looked at the pilot with true concern in her tired eyes.

"Atton, please, at least let me look at your wounds. Out of everyone on board, apart from the Exile, you're hurt the worst."

"I'm fine."

"Please."

"Fine, just be careful, this thing hurts worse than a Tarisian Ale hangover." Nodding silently, the former Echani handmaiden pulled back the ripped shards of the pilot's jacket, touching them with the greatest of care. The wound itself had already began to heal, although parts of the slash continued to bleed in sparse amounts.

"You're lucky that the blade didn't cut you very deep. The amount of blood you would have lost would have killed you nearly instantly."

"Lucky me." The pilot replied, his eyes still closed as he hissed as another wave of pain shot through his body.

"Atton, do not worry, the Exile will be fine. You out of all us know that she is stronger than she looks."

"Do you know what she said to me on Malachor?" The man asked, opening his eyes to look at the woman tending to his wounds. "She told me she loved me. That she didn't want to live without me. She thought I was dying."

"And do you love her?"

"I've loved her since the minute I saw her. I can't explain it really. I tried to pass it off as a joke. It wasn't funny."

"She'll pull through Atton, she always has. She survived Malachor once, she will surely do it again."

"That's always how it's been." Atton replied, leaning his head back as he stared out at the stars passing by the ship. "It's always been up to her."