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ladyofleithian Title: Just To Find My Purpose.
Summary: Atton muses over Arren Nichos even as the latter sleeps.
He doubted he could ever really figure out Arren Nichos. How the man pushed beyond the boundaries of ordinary human ability, even to the point of insanity, to help people who, quite frankly, didn't deserve to be helped. Not the refugees on Nar Shaddaa -- at least in the "didn't deserve to be helped" department -- but things like trying to help Atris, and Visquis, and even sparing Visas Marr -- although the last one he could understand...slightly.
There were plenty of other things he couldn't understand about Arren Nichos. Things like how he could still hold the Jedi and Mandalorians in high esteem after everything they'd done to him. Things like the way he seemed to forget, at times, that he was holding a lightsaber. Even now...
Atton sighed. After what had happened with the other Jedi
even now, it ached to think about her, about the one Jedi who'd managed to get through to him when no one else could. She'd shown mercy. And that hurt even more than the Council on Dantooine and Coruscant refusing to help them, or the constant accusations of "murderer" and "traitor" -- at least you knew how to respond to those
he'd been hesitant to get attached to anyone else. He'd wandered the galaxy, almost zombie-like -- dead inside, but unwilling
unable
to lie down and die.
Yet Arren...
Atton suppressed an affectionate chuckle, before tucking the tattered blanket -- the closest they could find; they always seemed to be short on credits -- over his Captain. He hadn't wanted to love after the Jedi who gave her life for him. Couldn't love that easily.
And yet even now...
I must be out of my goddamn mind...
Atton slumped in the pilot's chair, comfortable next to his Captain, before closing his eyes and waiting for sleep.
Summary: Atton muses over Arren Nichos even as the latter sleeps.
He doubted he could ever really figure out Arren Nichos. How the man pushed beyond the boundaries of ordinary human ability, even to the point of insanity, to help people who, quite frankly, didn't deserve to be helped. Not the refugees on Nar Shaddaa -- at least in the "didn't deserve to be helped" department -- but things like trying to help Atris, and Visquis, and even sparing Visas Marr -- although the last one he could understand...slightly.
There were plenty of other things he couldn't understand about Arren Nichos. Things like how he could still hold the Jedi and Mandalorians in high esteem after everything they'd done to him. Things like the way he seemed to forget, at times, that he was holding a lightsaber. Even now...
Atton sighed. After what had happened with the other Jedi
even now, it ached to think about her, about the one Jedi who'd managed to get through to him when no one else could. She'd shown mercy. And that hurt even more than the Council on Dantooine and Coruscant refusing to help them, or the constant accusations of "murderer" and "traitor" -- at least you knew how to respond to those
he'd been hesitant to get attached to anyone else. He'd wandered the galaxy, almost zombie-like -- dead inside, but unwilling
unable
to lie down and die.
Yet Arren...
Atton suppressed an affectionate chuckle, before tucking the tattered blanket -- the closest they could find; they always seemed to be short on credits -- over his Captain. He hadn't wanted to love after the Jedi who gave her life for him. Couldn't love that easily.
And yet even now...
I must be out of my goddamn mind...
Atton slumped in the pilot's chair, comfortable next to his Captain, before closing his eyes and waiting for sleep.
