Private "That Private School Education"

[Gatz Derrevar]

Ship: The Red Night
Weapons: Training Saber
Tag: Corazona von Ascania

Gatz had been pacing outside of Cora's door for fifteen minutes.

Asking for help shouldn't have been a hard prospect, but he'd always been a stubborn man. Even in the midst of physical exhaustion, with a mind fraying from weeks of not enough sleep, Gatz still couldn't bring himself to knock on her door and say "Cora, please help me." There were many reasons for that, acting like roadblocks in his path: shame at needing the help, feeling as though he didn't deserve it, and the knowledge that he would be ultimately wasting Cora's time.

The typical classes and structure the Order provided weren't cutting it for him. He was too far behind, and he needed too much help, and even his instructors simply didn't have enough time to spare him. Usually he would have gone to Valery Noble but... she had already done so much for him. And she couldn't spare the time he truly needed. And... he didn't want her to know how badly he was failing. He'd been avoiding her since returning to the Order, afraid of what she would think when she saw him: emaciated, exhausted, and failing a curriculum that her children—literally half his age, by the way—were excelling at. All the time and effort she had poured into him, wasted. How could he face her?

Much like when he was a child, he was falling through the cracks of the Order. And at this point, he was looking for a safety net. He was a remedial student in dire need of a teacher, but who wanted to take a twenty-five year old Padawan under their wing?

There was no teacher out there for him. Gatz had come to accept that. He would, ultimately, fail and leave the Order once again. But maybe a tutor would keep him afloat a little while longer. Just long enough for him to have actually learned something from all of this. Becoming a Jedi was already beyond his reach but... maybe—just maybe—it was possible to gleam something from his time here. Something that he could use to continue putting some good back into the galaxy.

He would never be a Jedi Knight. He knew that now. The hope Valery had planted in him was ultimately false. But that didn't mean he had to go back to being a smuggler. That didn't mean he had to give up on being a good man.

But that meant sacrificing some things: mainly his pride.

So be it. Finally, Gatz knocked at Cora's door.

"Hey, Cora," Gatz winced at how hoarse his own voice sounded, "it's Gatz. I, uh, was hoping you had a minute to talk?"

 

[Corazona von Ascania]

"Oh, General Grafan!" Lady Drenda gasped, pulling away from her lover. "We cannot. If my father ever finds out that-"

Gatz's knuckles rapped against the door, startling Cora from her writing groove. She knew that it was dangerous to work on her latest manuscript in the temple, but she'd been spending more time here lately and her room was private enough.

That didn't stop her from bristling in panic before she managed to shove the datapad into the furthest corner of her desk drawer. Gatz might've heard the brief, muffled rustling as she messed with the contents inside to cover the device.

The door slid open, revealing a calm, even Cora. Her placid demeanor did not betray the alarm hidden beneath the surface, but her lips did quirk into a frown, and her eyes did narrow in concern when she finally came face to face with Gatz.

Something had sounded off in his tone when he'd called out, but she'd attributed it to the door between them. Now, seeing him, she felt a pang of regret for not having caught up with her friend sooner.

He looked…not great. But Cora was Cora, and wouldn't say as much.

Instead, she smiled warmly.

"It's good to see you, Gatz." Stepping out into the hall, she shut the door behind her. "What can I do for you?"

Gatz Derrevar

 

[Gatz Derrevar]

Ship: The Red Night
Weapons: Training Saber
Tag: Corazona von Ascania

The span of a single heartbeat passed, and suddenly Gatz became extremely anxious. Cora was a Jedi Knight now. She had an added set of responsibilities. What if he was burdening her? What if asking her for help forced her to put off something she needed to do? He'd stopped himself from approaching Briana for that exact reason. He'd avoided Valery for weeks now, for that exact reason and... more.

But was he just coming full circle, and saddling Cora with the same thing instead?

Dammit, this had been a bad idea. The first thing Cora had told him, upon returning to the Order, was to let her know if he needed anything. Gatz knew those weren't empty words—she'd never struck him as the type to say something she didn't mean. But what he was asking for... it was a time investment. One that she'd get nothing out of, and one that was likely, ultimately, a waste.

Gatz wished he hadn't knocked. But he couldn't exactly ding-dong ditch her. And he knew she was in there, because he could hear her moving something around before she approached the door. For better or worse, he was locked into this action now. All he could do was, well, tell Cora how completely and utterly fucked he was when it came to his academics.

The mere idea was mortifying. Which was funny, because Cora was one of the three people who he'd confessed his murder to. This should have been nothing. And yet, somehow, it felt more daunting than confessing his greatest sin.

Foolish pride. It had always ruled him.

The door slid open, and Gatz found Cora to be the picture of perfection, as always. She did frown though, and Gatz offered a weak smile in return. She'd clearly noticed his... less-than-healthy appearance. Who wouldn't? He hadn't had a full night's sleep since returning to the Order. If Nar Shaddaa hadn't taught him how to survive off of little rest, he'd probably have collapsed by now.

He chose not to think about that, at the moment.

"Hi Cora," Gatz smiled, "I, uh..."

Oh boy. How did he even start? But then, he already knew: much like when he'd confessed his troubles to Master Serys-Organa, he had to start with the root of the problem. Even if it was painful.

"Cora, I need help." Gatz swallowed past a lump of shame in his throat, "I'm... struggling with my studies. Lessons don't make sense to me. The instructors don't have the time to help me as much as I need. And studying on my own has been fruitless."

At some point he'd looked away from her, face burning. Here he was: the big bad smuggler, unable to wrap his head around lessons meant for children.

"I understand if you don't have the time now that you've been knighted—congrats by the way—but I think I need... tutoring. And I didn't know who else to come to."

 

[Corazona von Ascania]

He needs help?

Gatz was struggling with his studies, but Cora's focus was honed in on the dark circles beneath his eyes and the hollowness of his cheeks. Concern gradually creased her pleasant expression.

One of the hardest lessons she'd had to learn was to rely on those close to her for support, especially in the wake of her disastrous marriage and capture on Thule. It was still hard, even now. The fact that Gatz had come forward for help, on his own, spoke to his strength even if he didn't feel it.

"Oh. Ah, thank you." Cora tilted her head in acknowledgement of his praise, distractedly so. She glanced up the hall, then down the opposite corridor. It was empty, and she considered inviting Gatz in to her room so that they could talk in privacy, but certain aspects of modesty were ingrained into her culture.

"I always have time to help a friend, Gatz." She assured him and stepped away from the door. The younger blonde waved for him to follow her, heading towards one of the common rooms down the hall, making sure to keep pace beside him rather than in front.

"Have…you been sleeping alright, Gatz? And when was the last time you had a good meal?"

Gatz Derrevar

 

[Gatz Derrevar]

Ship: The Red Night
Weapons: Training Saber
Tag: Corazona von Ascania

"I always have time to help a friend, Gatz."

Words could not describe the relief that flooded through him, upon hearing those words. He felt like he could breathe again, and Gatz sighed and sagged his shoulders—it was like a weight had been lifted off of them, and he was no longer hefting the burden of failure on his lonesome. Hell, he might have teared up, if not for the fact that he was simply too tired to cry.

"Thank you, Cora," it came out as a rasp.

She stepped away from the door then, and motioned for him to follow her down the hall. Except, it was less him following her as it was him walking beside her—admittedly at a slow pace than his normal gait. He wondered if that was what inspired her next question, or if it was simply his physical appearance that had her concerned about his health. Which... well, he could hardly blame her. If their roles had been reversed, and she'd been the one who looked sallow and gaunt, he'd probably have sat her down in bed and brought her breakfast.

And... if she was going to take the time out of her day to help him, the least he could do is answer her questions honestly. Cora was one of the three people in the galaxy he felt comfortable being vulnerable around, and he'd already admitted that he needed help. There was no further shame in telling her how bad the situation was.

As long as it didn't get back to Valery.

"I've barely been sleeping at all." He admitted, plain and simple, "there's just not enough time. I know going off of four hours of sleep a night is stupid... but it's the only way I can keep up with my studies. And even then, I'm behind enough that I had to come to you for help. All while kids half my age are plowing through their training."

Gatz sighed.

"And I had some toast this morning. I think."

 

[Corazona von Ascania]

"You think?"

Cora frowned. She gathered that Gatz was burning the candle at both ends in an attempt to keep up with the rigor of Jedi training.

There was an alcove at the end of the hall. A few small tables and chairs, and a kitchenette. It was akin to a break room one would find in a corporate office.

"Sit." She said, waving over to a chair. Concern dulled what would've normally been a more commanding tone.

Cora busied herself with a kettle, holding it over the open tap to fill it with water.

"I'm sorry to hear that you're having a difficult time, Gatz. If it's any consolation, I think that you're quite brave."

Not a lot of folks would make the decision to come back and finish their training after a fifteen year hiatus.

She spoke over the hiss of running water before closing the faucet and hefting the kettle onto one of the burners.

"I'll do my best to help you get caught up on the things you're struggling with, but you…can't keep going this way. With the lack of proper sleep and food, I mean."

Standing on her tip toes, Cora rummaged through one of the overhead cabinets. Her lips pursed as she retrieved a small box of off-brand tea, the kind that came in little sachets. Certainly not the luxury loose-leaf blends she was used to, but those had been harder to come by.

"Tea?" She asked after removing one mug from the cabinet, hand hovering over a second.

Gatz Derrevar

 

[Gatz Derrevar]

Ship: The Red Night
Weapons: Training Saber
Tag: Corazona von Ascania

Cora clearly wasn't pleased to hear of his failure to maintain his health. Not that he expected her to be happy about it. The condition he was in, and her likely reaction to it, was one of the reasons why he'd almost decided against coming at all. And it was certainly why he hadn't gone to Valery—that and the fact that he was afraid of her learning of how poorly he was adapting to his training and studies.

If he was being honest—and he did make an effort these days—the only person he felt comfortable letting see him in this state was Briana Sal-Soren . She already knew how much of a mess he was, and unlike with Valery, he hadn't already failed her a dozen times over. But she had so many responsibilities already... and Gatz couldn't bring himself to add to her plate, even though he was certain that she would help without hesitation.

But, by the Force did he want to bother her anyways. He didn't know how she did it, but Briana knew how to soothe him in a way that shouldn't have been possible. Maybe, after all that time they'd spent with their minds twisted together, she simply understood how to put him at ease. Maybe she didn't even know that she did it.

All he knew was that he wanted some reassurance and maybe a hug from his friend.

But Cora was a friend too. Maybe not one he knew well yet, but one he wanted to know well. And she was someone truly and wholly good, even if she didn't want to admit it. Plus, a perfectionist was probably the best person to ask for tutoring. But... he did have a scary image in the back of his mind of a strict Cora looming over him with a yardstick, ready to smack him in the back of the head if he got an answer wrong. She wouldn't, he was sure. Though, ironically, that probably would motivate him into learning faster.

Speaking of Cora, she bid him to sit in a little break room, and he obeyed without a fight.

"I'm not sure I'd call myself 'brave,' Cora." He admitted in a tired tone, "foolish, maybe. But never brave. I've only ever been a coward. I can't even bring myself to tell Valery and Briana how poorly I'm doing."

Fear hid in his heart, coiled up, and ever-present. A brave man didn't live in fear. Didn't run from his past. Every consequence he'd ever had to suffer had landed on someone else's shoulders. He'd never braved them himself. He just watched as someone else suffered in his place. Nor had he ever been brave enough to actually face justice for all the crimes he'd committed. Instead he ingratiated himself to Jedi, and used their faith as a way to overlook his own sins.

'Brave.' What did he know of 'brave?'

Finally, Cora chastised him about his clear exhaustion and emaciation. He understood now, why she'd led them to a kitchenette. The tea made sense too, in hindsight.

"I know I can't keep doing this," Gatz admitted softly, "but it's the only thing keeping me afloat here."

"And tea would be nice, please and thank you."

 

[Corazona von Ascania]

Cora was pleased to grab a second mug. Part of her had expected Gatz to fight - and he did a little bit - but he was also exhausted.

As she combed through the cabinets in search of something to feed him, she struggled on what to say next. It was hard to know the right words when she’d never been quite in his shoes.

"That sounds difficult." It was a quiet, yet heartfelt acknowledgment for his plight. She thought back to her engagement and ensuing marriage, and how she'd pushed away those who'd tried to help her. She'd been scared, embarrassed, and ashamed.

"It can be hard to reach out to people you want to."

Her search yielded a small bounty - a few protein bars and a cup of instant noodles. It wasn't five star cuisine, but she was just focused on Gatz getting something in his stomach. "But I'm glad that you told me."

Cora gave him a smile, then glanced to the directions on the cup. She'd never made one before. Oh, boiling water. They had that.

The kettle whistled angrily and Cora quickly removed it from the burner and poured them two cups of tea. Peeling back the lid, the remaining hot water went into the cup of noodles.

"Careful, it's hot."

She placed their mugs down on the table, then retrieved the food. The protein bars were placed in between them, and the cooking noodles closer to him.

Cora wrapped her fingers around the handle of her mug, tugging on the tea bag slightly as it steeped.

"What do you find the most difficult about your studies, Gatz?"

Gatz Derrevar

 

[Gatz Derrevar]

Ship: The Red Night
Weapons: Training Saber
Tag: Corazona von Ascania

A year ago, if someone had told him that a rich girl (was Cora still rich? She was exiled, so that made him question it.) would be sitting him down, brewing him tea, and making him something to eat, he'd have laughed his ass off. And then shot whoever was stupid enough to tell him that. Why would he ever waste a second of his time around the affluent?

Yet here he was: a Jedi Padawan, not a smuggler, being taken care of by Cora. Perhaps that should have made him feel ashamed. He couldn't find it in himself though. Maybe it was because he was too tired... or maybe it was because he was just grateful for a little affection from a friend.

"Sometimes it's hard to remember that I have people to reach out to," Gatz admitted, "I... a life of crime doesn't exactly come with many friends. Just people ready to stick a knife in your back for a few extra credits."

His mind drifted to Roche. Some days he still didn't understand the old Rodian. He'd taken Gatz under his wing, taught him everything he knew about being a smuggler. He'd have died on Nar Shaddaa in his first week without Roche. And yet... after six years of knowing each other, the man had tried to stab him the second a bounty was placed on his head.

But Gatz had to wonder... if he'd never met Valery, would he have done the same? Murder his mentor for a little extra money? Gatz wanted to tell himself he wouldn't have... but there was something cruel living inside him, even now, buried under the layers of altruism he'd tried to wrap himself in this last year.

Cora placed food and tea in front of him, and Gatz dismissed those thoughts.

"Thank you, Cora."

He started with a protein bar, giving his tea and noodles a few moments to cool. Meanwhile, he thought about Cora's question about his difficulties. He'd come to something of a conclusion about those, when talking with Master Serys-Organa.

"I struggle with learning from readings and lectures." He started slowly, but only when he'd swallowed his first bite, "I don't know how to put it into words, but it's like the knowledge doesn't stick in my head. But give me something hands on—something I can do—and it just clicks for me. It's how I learned to take things apart and put things back together. How I learned to fly, and how I learned my... less-than-legal skills. It's how Valery has been teaching me the lightsaber."

 

[Corazona von Ascania]

A life of crime doesn't exactly come with many friends.

Cora had never lived a life of crime, so she couldn't put herself into Gatz's shoes. Makko had, and she'd witnessed how he'd been used by the gang he'd turned to for help during her marriage. They'd only been friends out of convenience, she imagined.

A slow, gentle movement of her wrist stirred the tea. It was similar, at least a little, to the ways in which nobility worked. Always someone ready to backstab you if it served to elevate their status.

"Most people here are very genuine in wanting to help others." She smiled softly, distantly. "It's a little…hard to believe at first."

She was rather pleased to see that he was eating.

"It sounds like you're quite good at learning certain things. I've heard that some people can have a hard time with reading, but excel with hands-on learning."

A bit of anxiety wormed its way into her stomach - Cora was perfectly willing to try and help Gatz, but could she? She'd never been a teacher before. What if she wasn't good at it, and Gatz ended up worse off?

She tried to swallow that down; there was value in looking at things objectively, but spiraling had never done her any good.

Once they'd begun to address his lack of proper nutrition, Cora took a good look at Gatz. Ashla, he looked so worn! She just wanted to wrap him up in a blanket and tell him that everything would be alright.

"Gatz…"

Tentative, Cora reached out to place her hand atop his. She was careful to keep her voice as gentle and free of judgement as she could, but threads of concern wove into her tone.

"You can't keep going at this pace. The lack of sleep, the lack of food. It won't help you in your studies. I'm worried it'll only make things harder, then you'll crash and burn."

She took in a slow breath and squeezed his hand.

"I'll help you study on the condition that you start looking after your health. Even if I have to draw up a timetable of when you should eat and sleep."

Gatz Derrevar

 

[Gatz Derrevar]

Ship: The Red Night
Weapons: Training Saber
Tag: Corazona von Ascania

"Most people here are very genuine in wanting to help others." She smiled softly, distantly. "It's a little…hard to believe at first."

"Yeah," Gatz spoke quietly, "it still feels like a pleasant dream... and I'm afraid of waking up."

The Jedi as an organization existed, essentially, to help. Gatz did understand that. But after six years in Hutt space, it was almost foreign to even think of asking for it. When he considered what his life was like as a smuggler—only a year ago—to now, it was like culture shock. Even now, his eyes wanted to dart to every dark corner in the Jedi Temple, expecting someone with a knife or a gun there.

Trust wasn't something he was used to bestowing upon others. There were a few: Valery, Briana, Ray'ne, and now Cora. But beyond them? No. Even asking his instructors a few questions after class was difficult for him to do, and they literally existed to teach students of the Order. But even if he had felt entirely comfortable with his instructors, they simply didn't have the time to give him as much attention as he needed. They had other students, and other classes to attend to.

And so here he was, trapped in this situation.

Gatz took a sip of his tea. He still wasn't a tea person, but it was still pleasant enough to drink. So he continued, and set down a half empty cup with a sigh. Difficult or not, coming to Cora was a step in the right direction. She couldn't solve all his problems, or tutor him in every subject he needed, but her help was still a lot better than no help.

A hand found itself on top of his, and it wasn't even trying to break his fingers. Now that was strange. Then came the squeeze. When was the last time anyone had ever been this tender with him? Mom, before she died? Tears stung at his eyes, but Gatz managed to blink them away. But he couldn't dismiss the lump in his throat, not when her voice was so gentle.

For the love of—she was even willing to go as far as drafting a schedule for him, if it meant putting him on the right track, and getting him some rest.

"I—" The lump in his throat made speaking nearly impossible, "why?"

That wasn't what should have come out of his mouth. He should have offered gratitude, or agreed to her terms, which were incredibly reasonable. Yet, all he could think to do is ask why she would go so far out of her way for scum like him.

 

[Corazona von Ascania]

Why?

Cora hadn't expected him to ask why. Knowing Gatz's stubborn nature, she'd prepared for a possible rejection.

Her finger loosened against the string of the tea bag, letting it fall against the cup while she thought about how best to answer him.

"Because you're my friend, Gatz." She said simply. "We pulled people out of the rubble together. You helped me save my little sister."

They'd also shared painful pieces of their past with one another on Ukatis. Nothing like commiseration to bring on a little bonding. Though their first meeting had been a little rocky, the ex-smuggler and ex-princess managed to find common ground.

Cora smiled, warm and earnest. A touch of haughtiness tinged her voice, accompanied by a light upturn from one corner of her mouth.

"And you can't get rid of me that easily, I assure you."

Gatz Derrevar

 

[Gatz Derrevar]

Ship: The Red Night
Weapons: Training Saber
Tag: Corazona von Ascania

He didn't deserve Cora's help. He didn't deserve anyone's. Had that been another reason why he'd been so resistant to knock on her door? Honestly, Gatz was so tired that he genuinely couldn't remember. Guilt had probably played a factor though, as it did with every single action he'd taken in the last year. So his question of why, as odd as it might have seemed to her, was one that he had to ask.

Though, if one asked him why he needed an answer, he couldn't have given them an answer.

"Because you're my friend, Gatz." She said simply. "We pulled people out of the rubble together. You helped me save my little sister."

Oh. Right. They were friends... and that's what friends did. It was what Valery did for him, time and time again. It was what he had done for Briana, as often as she had needed it. Compassion. It was a simple concept to grasp, so when was he going to stop being surprised when it was shown to him by anyone other than those two? Sure, he and Cora had bickered at first, but what about everything that had happened after?

He'd confessed murder to her. And her to him. That put her in his top three confidants. He didn't need to know why, what a silly thing to ask. He simply should have known: she would help him, just like he would help her. He shouldn't have needed an explanation, or reassurance.

But there was one thing Gatz had to make clear.

"I didn't save your little sister so you'd owe me." Gatz croaked out. "I did it because it was right."

She smiled at him. Here he was, dragging her down, and making her take time out of her day to feed and hydrate him—a man halfway through his twenties, who should have been more than capable of that. Here he was, badgering her for her help and tutelage, knowing full well that she had just climbed to the rank of Jedi Knight, and that such a thing came with added responsibilities.

Here he was, Hutt scum, saddling her with his burdens while knowing full well that she had her own to bear. And still, she smiled. By the Force, she smiled anyways.

It was the single most beautiful thing he'd ever seen.

"And you can't get rid of me that easily, I assure you."

This time, Gatz couldn't blink away his tears. They fell silently, but he offered her a smile back, tired but grateful.

"Thank you. I—" He stopped to swallow past that lump in his throat, "I wish I had something more to offer you than words. But thank you, Cora."

 

[Corazona von Ascania]

Gatz thought she thought he'd helped her rescue Fantine so that she'd owe him? Her eyes narrowed a tic, not out of irritation, but in thought.

"Of course you didn't, Gatz. You saved her because there's good in you."

Even if he found it difficult to see in himself sometimes.

"Your hard work and dedication to your studies will be thanks enough, I assure you. I'm quite new to teaching, so I may not be very good at it."

That was a little point of anxiety for Cora in all of this - it was one thing to know something, but another thing entirely to teach it effectively.

Cora withdrew her hand from Gatz's own, using it to steady the mug as she brought it to her lips. Grocery store tea in a mug wasn't ideal, but it would do in a pinch.

It wasn’t terrible, she thought.

"Some of the people I look up to the most helped me when I needed it, even though I tried to push them away at times because I didn't think I deserved it. We may have lead very different lives, but I think I can imagine a little bit of the feeling."

Gatz Derrevar

 

[Gatz Derrevar]

Ship: The Red Night
Weapons:
Tag: Corazona von Ascania

Good. In him.

Even now he wanted to dismiss that with a sneer. Even after everything he had done this last year—every slave he'd freed, every life he'd saved, every time he'd knocked on death's door so someone else wouldn't—he still struggled to believe in his own innate goodness. The point of it all was to be better, so that when he was old and grey (not that Gatz expected to live that long), he could look back on his life and feel pride instead of shame.

To look back, and know he'd made a difference.

But the longer he went on, the more hopeless it seemed. The people he'd helped didn't erase the people he'd hurt. The lives he'd saved didn't erase the lives he'd taken. Master Serys-Organa had once told him that trying to quantify his rights and wrongs was a futile effort, and that it would result in nothing good. He knew she was right, but what else could he do, when his dreams were haunted by his sins?

As Cora let go of his hand, Gatz decided that maybe none of it mattered. He'd never been looking for redemption. He certainly wasn't looking for forgiveness. He did what was right, because it was right. That was the only honest motivation for doing good. He didn't need to be good. He only needed to do it.

That would have to be enough.

"Cora, I have a hard time believing that there's anything you aren't good at." Gatz admitted, wiping stray tears from his eyes.

Was he putting her on a pedestal? Probably. He had a habit of doing that. Valery. Briana. And now Cora. Though, admittedly, Valery's pedestal had cracked long ago, and their friendship was better for it. But, how could he not hold them in such high regard? Far too few people were willing to give men like him a second chance. Too few were willing to treat him with anything resembling kindness.

To say nothing of the tenderness Cora had offered. So foreign to him that Gatz wondered if he hadn't imagined the last few seconds. And all this from a woman who he'd had a rocky start with.

"'Deserve' is a funny word," Gatz said quietly, eyes suddenly finding interest in his half finished cup of noodles, "especially in regards to me. I deserve to be in a cell. Or just plain dead. I'm not sure I deserve to be sitting here, drinking tea with a friend, with my only real struggle being my studies. It seems... too light a punishment for the things I've done."

 

[Corazona von Ascania]

Their conversation had been filled with long stretches of thoughtful silence. It wasn't uncomfortable, and seemed to fit the mood rather well.

It was a far cry from their energetic first meeting. There'd always been something to do, another body to pull from the rubble beneath the destroyed buildings of Axilla.

Cora was pulled from her sobering thoughts in time to chuckle quietly.

"Ah, you should hear me sing."

Not that she'd willingly allow that. Perfection was expected of a Ukatisn noblewoman, or at least an illusion of perfection. It was an unattainable ideal for a Jedi.

"Deserve is a funny word." She murmured in agreement. Cora had been a victim of an abusive marriage, but she'd made a series of poor choices in the wake of her pain. There were times when she felt as if she didn't deserve to be here, either.

There were Jedi among the Order who'd been plucked from a life of crime and reformed, but Gatz was an interesting case. He'd been a youngling in the temple, but she didn't know what had prompted him to leave.

Cora glanced down into her mug, peering at her own reflection in the dark amber liquid for a moment. Many different life circumstances carried Jedi to and from the Order.

"May I ask…" Her voice was slow and careful, as if she were creeping into a delicate hothouse or, perhaps, a minefield. "Why you left the Order when you did? You don't have to tell me, of course."

Gatz Derrevar

 

[Gatz Derrevar]

Ship: The Red Night
Weapons:
Tag: Corazona von Ascania

The idea of Cora singing did make him snort. Not that his vocal cords were any good. Gatz supposed few could truly hold a tune, so really, could that be counted as a mark against her? He didn't think so. And yet, there was something... comforting in hearing her admit that she wasn't perfect. He knew that already, obviously. They wouldn't have bickered if she'd been perfect. But having the admission come from her lips made him feel more comfortable in admitting his own faults.

It was hard to put into words, but he felt better after she'd said it. Really, that was all that mattered.

"I don't exactly have a dulcet tone either. No judgement here."

Cora went on to agree with him about 'deserving' anything. That didn't surprise him in the slightest. Gatz didn't agree with her self-assessment, but he knew that she considered herself a murderer. Frankly, he'd have done far worse to her ex-husband—who he would always refuse to name—than simply pushing him out of a window. And he probably would have done it and not lost a wink of sleep.

Some people simply deserved their fate. Her ex-husband was one such person.

Cora was not.

Gatz almost opened his mouth to say something along those lines, but the words just wouldn't come. How did you comfort someone over ending a marriage in regicide? Or, well, as close to regicide as she could get? He didn't know. And so he sat there, useless to her, as she undoubtedly mulled over what she herself thought she 'deserved.'

But then came the question Gatz always feared. Even now, that fear beat in his heart, as that memory was unearthed for the third time in a year. When Valery had asked, and he had answered, Gatz had turned into a blubbering mess—into that nine year old boy who had watched a Jedi commit the ultimate sin. With Briana... he hadn't had to say a thing. Their former mind meld had simply bequeathed the knowledge to her, without him having to have that conversation a second time.

He was still afraid. He still didn't want to talk about it. But he found his lips moving anyways.

"I watched a Jedi Shadow murder a child." There was an undeniable tremor in his voice, "I was nine. My whole worldview was flipped upside down in one night. And the council at the time did nothing, and even justified the action. So I went home to Naboo."

 

[Corazona von Ascania]

Cora took slow, steady breaths and braced herself for whatever Gatz was about to say - or feel.

There was hesitance written into his body language, a quiver in his voice as he started to speak. Cora almost regretted asking; whatever Gatz's reasoning was, it clearly weighed heavily on him. She didn't want her curiosity to burden him further, given how hard he'd been struggling to try and stay afloat at the Order.

Cora gave Gatz her full attention, remaining largely silent through his admission. However, her faint expression of concern twisted rather quickly into one of shock and horror.

Murdering a child was a terrible crime enough on its own, but for the council to do nothing, and then justify the action? It smacked of either misjudgment or severe misguidance.

"Oh, Gatz…" she said softly. "That is…terrible, to witness such a thing. And so young…"

No wonder he'd left, disillusioned with the idea that Jedi were supposed to be the galaxy's peacekeepers.

Silence passed between them for a few long moments as Cora weighed what to say next. What did you say to something like that?

"Do you…" she began carefully "…know what reasoning they gave for such a heinous act?"

Gatz Derrevar

 

[Gatz Derrevar]

Ship: The Red Night
Weapons:
Tag: Corazona von Ascania

For better or worse, he'd begun to unravel the story, and he couldn't stop now. Gatz wanted to. He wished he could glue his lips shut, and bury the memory again. Not because he didn't trust Cora, or because he didn't think she was a worthy confidant. But because he kept this buried for a reason: over fifteen years old, but the pain of that memory was just as harsh as when he was a child.

And with the death of his family—the fact that he had lost everyone who had ever loved him—still weighing on him, Gatz wasn't keen on shattering himself any further.

But Cora asked for details, and even if she hadn't he still wouldn't have been able to stop the tale. Not now.

"His name was Riggs," Gatz continued hoarsely, "we grew up here in the Temple together, but he was a few years older than me. Shortly after he became a Padawan, he started sneaking out of the Temple at night, and he got... really violent. He just... changed. Well, one night, he invited a few of us to sneak out with him—just the troublemakers, like me."

Gatz let out a heavy sigh. He felt tears prick at his eyes again, but he refused to let them fall this time. So he took a few breaths to steady himself as best he could—which wasn't much—before continuing.

"He took us to the lower levels of Coruscant, a bunch of eight to twelve year old boys. And he introduces us to this old man living in a shanty. Turns out, Riggs had been sneaking out to meet with this guy, who'd been... teaching him. First thing I noticed about him: yellow eyes. And not the natural kind, like Val. The old man starts talking to us about how our instructors are holding us back, the Jedi are weak... you know, the typical pitch for jumping on the Dark Side bandwagon."

Then came the lump in his throat. Gatz swallowed past it.

"She just... came out of the shadows. One moment she wasn't there, then she was. She didn't speak a word. Just ignited a yellow lightsaber and cut the man down. Turned to Riggs, and struck again, with no hesitation. Pulled a red holocron out of the old geezer's robe, turned to look at us, and walked away. Cut down a twelve year old boy, and left the rest of us stranded on the lower levels of Coruscant."

"And the Council at the time? Defended her as performing her duties to excise the Dark Side. Because apparently a boy being led astray means he's fallen too far to be helped."

Gatz stopped there. He sat in his chair, trembling, as if he was that nine year old boy once more.

 

[Corazona von Ascania]

Regret swarmed her the moment Gatz recounted the name of the slain Padawan. There was so much visceral pain in his voice and posture that she almost cut him off, not exactly eager to put him through something so difficult when he was already struggling.

Perhaps, Riggs' story needed to be told.

Cora reached out, extending a hand and once more placing it atop Gatz's own. If nothing else, she hoped to offer him a silent anchor as he was dragged through disturbing memories. The story started out benign, then gradually became more unsettling. Kids of that age often got themselves into trouble, and though Cora had always followed directions as a child, she had an appreciation for children and their harmless mischief.

Her lips thinned into a firm line at the mention of an old man yellow eyes, aware of Gatz's implication. There was a pause, a swell of tension.

Abject shock hit her core, spreading through every nerve and seeping onto her face. Eyes wide, lips slightly parted, posture uncomfortably taut. She could piece together how this story was going to end a few sentences before Gatz confirmed it. Cora had hoped she'd be wrong.

"Gatz, that's…"

What could she possibly say to him that would make things better? Probably nothing. Sometimes, there were no words that could improve a situation. He'd witnessed something horrifying that had broken his faith in the Jedi so completely for so long. All she could do was listen, and honor both his pain and circumstance for what they were.

"You don't have to say anything else. I'm sorry for making you recount something so terrible." Cora gave his hand a brief squeeze. This was the type of story that made you feel like a rug had been pulled out from under you, the kind that left a deep pit of dread in her stomach.

"What that shadow did was wrong. Riggs didn't deserve to die. I'm so sorry – no wonder you left."

Gatz Derrevar