Woman without a Country

Atton handed Ludmilla another plate of food. He had commandeered Mical's equipment without asking, making happy comments about plates and how glad he was not to have to eat with his hands, completely ignoring Mical's half-hearted protests.
"Oh, thank you," she said gratefully, and continued working on her lightsaber. They had camped under the tree for the night, as it was too far to return to the spaceport, and everyone except Ludmilla was worn out.
Atton watched her for a few minutes. She was completely absorbed in her work, and he finally got up to find something else to do. Atton started, at the feel of a hand on his arm. He tried to pull away, but Mical didn't let go.
"I just want to ask you a question," said Mical quietly, and walked just out of Ludmilla's hearing, with Atton in tow.
"What?" said Atton shortly.
"Did you see a datapad while you were going through my things?"
Atton looked calmly at Mical, and pulled his arm out of Mical's grasp. "Yes. I put it down on your bag. It's over there somewhere." He waved in the general direction of the camp.
"No, it isn't," said Mical patiently.
"Well, that's where I put it."
Mical just looked at him.
"I think that's where I put it anyway," Atton amended. "Does it matter? Was there something important on it? Republic encryption keys or something?"
Mical gritted his teeth and forced himself not to answer.
"I'll look for it after I do the cleaning up. What, it's not like you have to file a mission report to your superiors at a certain time or something. I'm sure that your superiors in the historical archives can wait until morning to hear that you didn't find any new artifacts. It's not like you're reporting to an admiral on the whereabouts of the Exile or anything," said Atton in a completely innocent voice, slightly tinged with impudent humor.
"By the Celestials, I really want to slap you."
Atton grinned. "You wouldn't dare."
"That doesn't change the fact that you're being deliberately infuriating."
"I have no idea what you're talking about," grinned Atton. "Besides, if it's really important, I could just drop everything and search for your precious datapad. If it was so important, why weren't you carrying it in your bag in the first place?"
"You've already read it, haven't you?"
"What are you talking about? Your datapad? Didn't it have a password on it? I was more interested in the plates and stuff in your bag. I still need to find a bowl big enough for making syrup in. Or a jar. Do you think they'd have something I could use at that one store by the spaceport?" Atton pondered. "Probably not. I think I'll pick some more flowers. Then I can just wait for the ship to get back."
"No," said Mical sternly. "You are going to clean up and give me back my datapad."
"I am?" said Atton in surprise. "Fine, whatever." Atton turned to head back to the camp, but Mical grabbed his arm again. "Hey, I need that arm. What is it now?"
"Go pick your flowers," said Mical with a sigh. "I'll do the cleaning."
"Really?" Atton smiled. "Cool! Thanks," he flashed a bright smile at Mical and walked back to the tree, pausing only to pick up a bag to hold all the flowers. Humming a little song, Atton began collecting more flowers to make candy and syrup.
Mical gritted his teeth, and went back to the camp.
"I thought Atton said he was going to clean those," said Bao-Dur. "How did he trick you into doing it?"
"Don't ask," said Mical, trying to keep his irritation out of his voice.
Bao-Dur grinned, and shook his head. "What's this?" He picked up a datapad from the ground just beyond the cooking area, and dusted it off.
"Oh, that's probably mine," said Mical with relief. "Could you put it in my bag?"
"Sure." Bao-Dur tossed the datapad into Mical's bag. "Do you need any help with that?"
"Not really, but if you could put the clean things away, I would appreciate it." Mical smiled gratefully, and the two men quickly cleared away the mess. Bao-Dur left to check the perimeter of the camp, and Mical pulled out his datapad. He stared at the screen, then tossed it back into his bag in quiet anger and went to go look for Atton.
He found him almost where he had first left him, but Atton had wandered a little farther away from camp, and was kneeling on the ground, alternately plucking petals from flowers to put into a bag and feeding nuts to a small red tree-dwelling creature that was watching him curiously. Mical made a small noise of irritation, and Atton, trying not to smile, heard. Atton stood, and turned to face him, still holding to his façade of complete innocence.
Mical was about to speak, then suddenly moved forward, tackling Atton to the ground and shielding him from the kath hound's spring with his own body. The beast missed them completely, and with a savage snarl, ran away without attacking a second time. "Loathsome things," Mical frowned. "I hate when they do that. Are you are right?" he asked Atton. Atton nodded quickly without speaking, and Mical helped him back to his feet. "You shouldn't wander so far from the camp," he admonished. "Here," he handed Atton his bags.
Atton accepted them quietly, and walked back to the camp with Mical.
"Are you sure you're all right?" Mical asked nervously. "I'm fairly certain being this quiet isn't normal for you."
Atton smiled. "I'm fine, it's just…" he sighed. Atton stopped, and faced Mical. "I'm sorry for messing around with your datapad."
"What? Oh, that," Mical shook his head. "It's not that important, really, I shouldn't have – I really am a historian, you know. Perhaps I should have been more clear that I also happen to be a bit more. I'll explain to her in the morning." Mical smiled. "I hope there won't be any more misunderstandings."
"Yeah," Atton sighed. "I'm gonna go put these away. Thank you, Mical."
Mical watched him walk away, still confused and somewhat concerned. "Did I say something wrong?"
Atton didn't appear to hear him, and kept walking. "Oh, hey, Ludmilla." Atton smiled at her as she stood up, putting her lightsaber away. "I think Mical wanted to talk to you."
"Oh?" Ludmilla looked at Mical, and Atton took the opportunity to slip away. He managed to stay out of Mical's way until Ludmilla sent everyone to bed, staying up herself to keep watch.
"Are you certain you don't want any of us to take a watch?" asked Mical.
"I'll be fine," Ludmilla smiled. "Get some rest."
Everyone settled down, and Ludmilla listened to the sounds of her crew at rest. She smiled to herself.
"I said, get some rest, Atton."
"I am resting," he protested quietly. He sat up slightly, propping his head on his arms. "Did Mical talk to you?"
"He did." Ludmilla smiled at him, then went back to watching the kath hounds just outside the shadows from the camp.
"Did he say anything? About me?" Atton asked nervously.
Ludmilla smiled again. "Not anything specific, just that you were annoying him. But you annoy everyone, so that's nothing special." She looked at him, grinning. "Is it?"
Atton shook his head quickly. "I was uh... just wondering. So, what did you talk about? His job?"
"Yes, he wanted to clarify things a bit. He was worried," she smiled again, "that people didn't trust him. Oh, he did say something about someone getting honey all over his datapad. I hope you apologized."
Atton blushed. "I apologized." He was silent for a moment. "What did you tell him?"
Ludmilla shrugged. "We're all on the same side. We're not in conflict with his orders, and I have nothing to hide from anyone."
"No, you wouldn't, would you? You didn't tell him anything else?" Atton asked nervously.
"Of course not," she said gently. "If there's something you want him to know, you should tell him yourself."
"I can't talk to him," said Atton. "Nothing comes out right."
"Butterflies in the stomach? Knees get weak?"
Atton stared at her, and Ludmilla laughed.
"What? He's handsome, a lot better looking than that jerk on Nar Shadaa."
Atton's eyes went wide, and he paled slightly. "What?"
"Oh, come on, I'm stupid sometimes, but I'm not that stupid." Atton didn't speak, and she went on. "I'm not completely blind, either. I have noticed you flirting with Bao-Dur and Canderous - the only difference is, it might actually work on Mical. Which I have no problem with. What I do have a problem with," she said gently, "is when you act like you don't trust me. I really hate that."
"It's not you that I don't trust," said Atton softly. "I don't trust myself."
"I do," she said simply.
Atton sighed. "I still can't talk to him." He hid his head in his arms, then pulled his pillow over his head.
"Do you want me to tell him for you? He's still going to ask you about it, you know."
"That's fine," said Atton, his voice muffled by the pillow. "I just don't want him to find out the wrong way."
Ludmilla threw a rock, scaring away the kath hounds that were circling the camp, and knelt down next to Atton. She gently took the pillow away and rearranged it under his head, making him comfortable. She bent over him and kissed him gently on the lips. "I'll talk to him," she said, and kissed him again. "Now go to sleep." Ludmilla watched him as he drifted off to a dreamless sleep, then went back to watching the shadows and listening to the soft breathing of her crew. "Seriously?" she muttered. "You know, eavesdropping is a bad habit. And we're going to be getting up at dawn whether you've gotten any sleep or not."
"I do apologize," said Mical softly. "I got distracted." He sat up and looked at her. "What was he talking about?"
Ludmilla smiled. "He's very insecure sometimes, and he wants people to like him."
"Then why does he act like a spoiled brat?" Mical demanded.
"Because that's all he knows," she said gently. "Well, that, and hiding so well that people forget he's there at all."
"I wondered about that," said Mical slowly. "Where would you learn such a skill?"
"According to Kreia, it's mostly instinct. She does it herself a bit. He's much better at it, though."
"There were rumors," said Mical carefully, "during the Jedi Civil War, about an elite group of Sith Assassins. One of them was a very young Corellian, noted for having a Bloodstripe - and for being exceptionally attractive."
"What the - Atton is the Incubus?" Bao-Dur sat up and stared at Ludmilla. "You knew?"
"Was," Ludmilla corrected. "And why aren't you asleep, old man?"
"You turned a bloodthirsty murderer into a Jedi?" asked Bao-Dur.
"Hey, it's not my fault the universe is so hard up for Jedi," she smiled. "Seriously, old man, what did you expect? That I'd hear his confession and leave him on Nar Shadaa to become a Sith instead?"
"Well, no," said Bao-Dur. "You really take that forgiveness thing seriously, don't you?"
Ludmilla smiled, proud and unable to keep herself from radiating a bit of happiness. "It hasn't failed me yet."
"No," Bao-Dur agreed. "It hasn't. I'm glad you didn't leave him behind." He grinned up at her. "You know, the Republic is pretty outnumbered in your crew. You have two ex-Sith, two ex-Jedi, a Mandalorian, an Exchange crimelord, and a crazy droid. All against one Republic Intelligence Officer," he grinned at Mical. "Anyway, I'm glad the kid has someone else to annoy besides me. I don't think my hearts can take much more of his accidental touching." Bao-Dur lay down again. "Good night, General."
"Sleep well, old man."
"Did everyone know that I was Republic Intelligence?"
"I had no clue," Ludmilla assured him.
"Yes, but you take everyone at their word," Mical sighed. He looked at her curiously. "Would you trust Atton if you weren't in love with him?"
"Would I be in love with him if I didn't trust him?"
Mical didn't know how to answer that. "And… you really would have no problem… with, er...."
Ludmilla laughed. "So long as I get to watch sometimes."
Mical blushed brightly. "I'm not…. I don't – Good night, Master Sîvoš."
"Ugh, don't call me that. It makes me feel like I'm a hundred or something."
Mical blinked at her in surprise. "But you're – "
"Good night, Disciple."
"Of course," Mical smiled softly. "Good night."