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“I’m staying. Yes. I regret the trouble I’ve caused, but I think that, if you consider what I have to offer, you’ll realize it’s the best choice.” She ticked off the reasons on her fingers as she spoke. “I’m basal humanoid, which means that with minimal cosmetic and prophylactic disguises, I can be a human, a Mirialan, or even a Twi’lek. I’ve got the whole pheromonic-telempathic thing going for me, which lets me manipulate a roomful of people without their suspecting a thing. And I’m rich and beautiful, which gives me access to some corridors of power. Face it, Jax—your group needs me.”

He couldn’t argue with that. She was headstrong, willful, accustomed to having her own way; in short, a real handful—and she was right. She could be an asset, no question about it.

He hoped Laranth wouldn’t mind.

As it turned out, he didn’t get a chance to ask.

She was in a private recovery room, he noted with surprise; unusual for someone with no grid references. He suspected that Dejah had worked her money and manipulation abilities already to get the Twi’lek the best possible care.

She was conscious when he entered, having just undergone extensive bacta tank regeneration. Her right arm had been almost completely severed, and the lightsaber had caused a grievous wound in her right side as well, damaging her liver and pancreas. Were it not for the cauterization that the energy blade’s intense heat had caused as it did its damage, she would have bled to death before she’d hit the ground.

He looked at her face again, and was surprised to see her awake and watching him. Her gaze seemed even bleaker than usual. She didn’t respond to his greeting; instead she said, simply, “I’m leaving.”

“Leaving?”

“Your group. I’ve decided that I can accomplish more on my own, without the distractions of attempting to solve mysteries best left to the sector police.” She raised her good hand to forestall any objections or questions. “I’ll still be around, Jax. I’m sure our paths will cross. But I think it’s best that we go our own ways.”

Jax, still mentally reeling from the news that Dejah had just given him, found himself totally at a loss for words. He stood there, mouth agape like a Padawan who’d just seen his first Force demonstration. At last, unable to think of any other course of action, he sent his Force lines to her, questing for her feelings, expecting nothing more than the usual impenetrable armor in which she shielded herself.

To his shock, he found her wide open.

Hesitantly, he pushed farther. She still offered no resistance. She’s not exactly welcoming me with open arms, either, he thought. Still, he knew it took an enormous amount of courage for the Paladin to go as far as she had.

Such trust demanded reciprocity. He opened himself, laid bare his inner feelings, his secrets, as best he could; he hadn’t had much practice in self-examination and -realization, either. They were precepts he’d been learning as part of his adult training, before the Temple had been shattered. Nevertheless, he now stood as close to naked before the Force as he was capable of.

He felt her probe him, felt her mind within his; hesitant at first, but then with greater confidence, and finally with reckless abandon. She was looking for something …

He realized what it was just as he encountered the same emotion in her. She wasn’t hiding it, though. Cautiously, tentatively, she was displaying it, like a war-torn pennant atop a battlement.

The revelation stunned him.

I—I never thought of you that way, he said mentally, letting the Force convey the essence of the message without unnecessary words.

Nor I you. But things change. She looked at him, and even though the tone of her thoughts was cool and controlled, the sense he received through the Force was anything but. It had all the truth and intensity of her passion for freedom and justice. And even as he felt its heat, he could feel it starting to wane, could feel its fires being brought under control.

Wait, he said, but it was