There's Nothing Here

[Svo'k Lynd]

*He pulled in air through his nose and breathed deeply, his blue eyes opened and he rubbed the sleep out of them. He sat up in bed, and swung both legs over the side, it was still early yet but this was his routine now. He ran a hand through his short dark brown hair and stood up, his knees cracked a bit as he put weight on them, his back cracking as he stretched it out. None of it hurt and was just normal, but if he was being honest with himself, had he taken better care of himself when he was younger then maybe it wouldn’t be quite like this? Not that it was a bother or anything, it just made him feel a bit older than he was. He took of his sleep shirt, his torso still totally claimed by red and black Sith tattoos, something that had bothered him at first in the early part of his journey, here but he had come to terms with it, especially since his Knighting, he was definitely a Jedi now. He slid his Pajama bottoms off and grabbed a pair of black workout shorts with a reflective Jedi order symbol above the left knee, he found his shirt which was of a similar design and slide it on over his head, the scent of stale sweat rearing it’s ugly head as the shirt slipped under his nose. He’d probably need to wash these soon, but workout clothes were sort of expected to stink and even if they were clean now, they wouldn’t be in an hour anyway, so the point of washing them as often as other clothes was sort of lost on him, and he knew he was not the only one in the order with this philosophy. He pulled his pair of black moisture wicking socks on and his running shoes shortly after. There was one more thing, he found his utility belt on his Knight Stand and removed his lightsaber and it’s holding mechanism and attached them to the spot on his shorts designed to hold a lightsaber and not much else. Several years ago it had become apparent that this was definitely a necessity, while most Jedi figured out something anyway, including them on standard workout apparel had been standard at some point. He nodded to himself knowing full well the reason for it and looked down at the picture of Adrian on his nightstand. He sighed and said a daily silent prayer to the Force that Adrian would be forgiven for his transgressions and would have by now hopefully found peace. Some wounds never heal, nor should they as the pain needs to be felt to remind one the consequences of their actions. He lowered his head and picked the picture frame up and kissed it, then hugged it tightly before setting it back down. There were of course pictures of his other children too, even Luka and Damien whom at first both had less than stellar opinions of him, but both had seem to soften quite a bit over time, especially Damien. Luka’s opinion seemed to change a bit just before his Knighting, he was still somewhat cool with Svo’k, but he could tell that at least Luka no longer outright hated him and actually seemed to show some care and empathy for him at times agreeing to tea every now and a gain, it was an uphill battle with Luka, but Luka was a Consular and couldn’t stay mad forever, he was far too good a Jedi for that.

Svo’k stretched and put in a single earbud, listening to some rather heavy music from his youth, something he had not dared to do at first, but just because he was a Jedi didn’t exactly mean that his taste in music changed, just the habits associated with it. He smirked a bit and left his room and swiftly made his way to the temple exit. It was still dark when he finally made it outside, the morning air was crisp and cool, the city planet had not come fully to life yet as he made it out past the Temple security check point and just out to the edge of the streets near the Temple, he found his starting spot, a spot where an innocent person had fallen several years earlier in a day that turned out to be the worst day of Svo’k’s life. He said another quick prayer to the Force for the soul of the innocent man that his son had murdered, then he began to run the perimeter of the Temple. He never did the math but he knew the perimeter of the was rather large and five to seven times around it equated to like a few miles. He never really counted either, he just stopped when his commlink on his wrist indicated he had gone about seven miles, ten on Wednesdays and Fridays, but seven on Monday, Tuesday and Thursday, at least when he was not on a mission somewhere in the galaxy. It was a good habit to be in and old or not he certainly felt like he was in the best shape of his life. On days he didn’t run the ten, he’d follow up his run with lifting in the gym plus a day of lifting on Saturdays, his Sundays were specifically for rest and recovery and once every six weeks he’d switch everything up just to shock his body as muscles sort of got used to routines.

How far had he gone now? Six miles, his footsteps fell heavier on the ground and the sun was starting to creep up through the buildings and more and more speeders could be heard whizzing by. He felt the sweat drip down his face and torso, his shirt, endorphins releasing in his brain, he felt sort of a euphoric high, some runners equated this to being similar to sex, a point that was not lost on Svo’k and was something he generally agreed with. Once again, replacing bad personal choices with good ones, it wasn’t even something that he had to think about anymore, he just made the right decisions completely replacing the bad with the good. His breathing was controlled, but he was definitely feeling it as he approached the seven mile marker. Finally he stopped and caught his breath and made his way swiftly into the Temple again and all the way up to the gym, which still sometimes somewhat empty at this point. He grabbed a bottle of water and chugged it as he entered the gym.*

“Hell yes! No one.”

*Svo’k smiled with delight as he had the gym to himself, which was quite rare. It wasn’t that there was a lack of equipment or anything, but he just liked being alone while working out, it offered him a bit more freedom to do what he wanted to do, not that Jedi judged or anything, some of them sort of just got in the way with the pace he set for himself. He was a Guardian and Guardians went hard core with physical fitness and as a former Sith, that was a priority before too. Quickly he found a bench and grabbed sixty pound dumb bells. He sat down and began curls, fifteen on each arm and then a minute break before resuming. He repeated this three times and then dropped to his back. He lifted the weights above his chest and repeated the same routine with butterflies, bringing the weights from his side and up over his chest, touching them together before returning to the original position, except on the rest period he would drop the weights and do ab crunches on the bench for the full minute before resuming. Once again he repeated this three times. He then quickly got up and wiped the bench down, but left the weights there as he was still alone. He made his way to the leg machines, he wasn’t sure what this damn thing was called, but he laid face down on the bench of the machine and placed his legs against the padded weight thingy of the machine and set the weight to one hundred and fifteen pounds and began curling his legs against the weight until he was nearly touching his rear end with his feet. Once again, he did three sets of fifteen, wiped down the machine and nearly ran over to the chest machine and set the weight to one hundred and sixty five pounds and did three sets of fifteen, wiped down the machine and moved back to leg machine. He adjusted the bench to an upright position and left the weight where it was and did three sets of fifteen leg lifts, wiped the machine down and moved back to his dumb bell bench and repeated the whole process one more time. The workout itself took about thirty five minutes. He finished, out of breath, his legs and arms feeling like hello and he sprinted out of the gym and up the staircases at full speed to his rom. Once there he quickly mixed protein powder with about twenty ounces of water and chugged it quickly. He then rinsed the bottle out, filled it with water and chugged it again until his stomach felt full. He took his soaked clothes off, tossed them on the floor and jumped into a lukewarm shower for fifteen minutes or so.

He got out and toweled himself off, he checked his face in the mirror and brushed his teeth, he silently lamented about the more and more grey hairs that seemed to appear every day, even though his hair itself was still mostly dark brown, it just made the few grey hairs stick out more, he could dye it, but he just wasn’t that vain anymore. He put on his traditional brown and tan Jedi robes with his utility belt and made himself a breakfast of egg whites, lean sausage and a fruit salad and of course a soothing red tea to wash it all down with a slight indulgence of organic honey to satiate his sweet tooth. He cracked his back over the chair and picked up his datapad and looked at his schedule for the day, he was doing lightsaber instruction with some of the more adept youngling students in about an hour and then at noon he was to report to the council chambers to receive an assignment. Maybe he could squeeze in lunch with Luka or Alex after that if they were free? He sent them both a message, maybe they’d both say yes and that would be great, and if not that would be okay too.

His Jedi children who were both young men at this point were physical representations of both everything he had done right and wrong in his life, somehow at the same time and he was incredibly proud of both of them, the same with all of his children really, but he loved them dearly. He smiled and stood up, taking a deep breath and finally began his day by walking out of his room for the second time today he walked out of his room, this time towards the training room where he would be instructing the youngling prodigies on advanced lightsaber techniques….well advanced for their age anyway, he sent Kira a brief good morning message before arriving in the training room. He nodded checked the training sabers and ensured their pain levels were set to a reasonable setting and that all were in safe working order, then he sat down in the center of the room, closed his eyes and began to mediate. Focusing on seeing a small light and allowing the living Force to flow through him and trying his best to prepare for the great privilege and joyous burden of instructing the next generation of Jedi. After several minutes he felt the first students starting to near the training room and his blue eyes opened a feeling a peace washed over him and he stood up as the young Jedi began to file in.*

“Good morning young ones...“

[Damien Cerof]

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

The young Mando’ad waited quietly at one side of the hallway. He was barely past legal majority on some planets, but an accepted and proven adult among his people for several years, married, with small sons of his own. He carried his helmet in one arm, and had left most of his weapons according to accepted practice with the Jedi. It was an unnerving feeling, but fine enough. His gloves were rolled into a pocket as usual. The tension in his hands showed, but otherwise his stance and expression were casual enough. At four minutes to the turn of the hour, the door swished open. He watched a small exodus of children erupt from the classroom and stream in various directions down the corridor. He moved towards the door when it was his turn… Except that apparently one of the students had stayed asking questions for a minute.

“—nk you, Master Lynd! We’ll keep working on the velocities! …Umphh! Whoops. Sorry, mas.. I mean, sir. Um. Have a good day!”

“Pssh. Don’t worry about it. You, too.”

The young father grinned at the reddish tanned student girl who’d just barrelled directly into his torso and smacked the side of her head against him while she was calling behind her shoulder into the training room. He was the one in armor vs. her Jedi children’s garb, so if anything he would have been mildly concerned about her. The girl was clearly unfazed, though. Damien liked her. He nodded back when she quickly bobbed her head in a bow, then watched her run off to catch up with a pinkish, yellow, and silver trio of students who’d been the last three out of the classroom. All four of them were enthusiastically debating some point from the morning’s lesson. Suddenly the Echani boy and the reddish girl shouted and were clapping each others hands about whatever it was. They rounded a corner before he’d figured out whatever they were talking about, but Damien liked all four of them.

Okay.

This time the room seemed actually empty, except for the one. Damien brushed a hand through his hair. He strode directly into the training room before he could overthink it, and soon found the man who'd been teaching the lesson. The half-Hapan young man was shorter than Svo'k, about equally fit, with tanner complexion, much blonder hair, and green eyes. Damien stopped moving and consciously cracked a smile.

“Hey, Dad.”

[Julian Orspach]

Initially the pink youngling had run off down the hall with his friends and peers, his comrades in arms as they were. The seven year old then paused after taking note of the tall man in the Mandalorian armour. Of course he had seen a Mandalorian before, the Jedi had an agreement with them, but this one was waiting for Master Lynd! And...and and...ONTOP OF THAT! He called him Dad! That definitely meant that he could totally go back and talk to the man for a brief second, he had a question a question that he must definitely ask him. The Pink ball of energy stopped dead in his tracks and did an about face.

"Guys wait up just a minute!"

He said to his young comrades with the energy of a young boy who had just found a whole stash of candy in his pocket. He then sprinted off down the hall and skidded abruptly to a stop right behind the tall Manadalorian and Master Lynd. He bowed deeply to both of them.

"Master Lynd! and...and SIR! I am so sorry to interrupt but I really need to ask a question."

He scooted quickly to the side so that the Mandalorian man could see him clearly. He stood as upright and respectfully as he possibly could, his purple eyes filled with a mix of respect and excitement for the question that burned at the tip of his tongue.

"Sir, it would be...."

What was that word the Mandalorians liked a lot? Their culture seemed to revolve around it.

"A real most amazing honor..."

He paused for a brief moment contemplating his request.

"If I mean you could teach me some....uhhh.....hand to hand fighting stuff! I mean...if you have time sir! I really would be honor....ud with you a real Mandalorian teaching me!"

He stopped, his purple eyes wide, trying to muster some of that irresistible Zeltron charm that he was subconsciously aware he possessed. He had seen it tons of times when his Mom somehow got his Dad to do something he didn't really want to do, she looked at him a certain way and somehow made him give in to even the dumbest of chores. He tried really hard to mimic this but on a cuter level, because he was just a kid after all! Who could resist the most innocent request of a young child?

[Damien Cerof]

Damien slid a glance toward Svo’k. When the older man didn’t seem interested in intervening, the younger one shrugged and crouched onto one knee. This put the half-Hapan young father closer to eye to eye with the Zeltron, with Julian a little taller than him now. Damien set his helmet down and looked the excited student over.

“Shut off the cuteness, verd'ika. First it depends what your teachers want. Second, ’course I could. But just because we’re Mando'ade doesn’t mean we’re all combat teachers. How old are you and what do you practice most?”

[Julian Orspach]

Julian didn't flinch as the taller man bent down to his level and set his helmet down the giddy seven year old's smile faded when he was commanded to cut off the cuteness. He thought for a moment and looked at Damien and then to Master Svo'k and back again.

"Just cause I'm Zeltron doesn't mean I'm trying to be cute...but I was. Sorry."

The youngling put a finger to his mouth and thought for a second.

"I'm seven. And...I've seen Mand...Mando'ade fight and I just want to learn how to be so fast like you."

[Damien Cerof]

“Mhm.”

The young Mando’ad acknowledged the boy’s admission with a nod. He kept up eye contact, but otherwise didn’t see any need to return to the cuteness-manipulation topic.

Still crouched on his left knee, Damien rested an arm across his leg and looked the earnest child over with a twitch of a smile.

“Fast isn’t a problem I’ve seen from Jetiise—Jedi. Get your core reactions planted deep in your body memory first and you’ll get the speed soon. But, grow about about three inches… and we can talk about swoop racing if you want speed.”


Damien’s green eyes flicked toward Svo’k’s, then returned to the Zeltron boy. He picked up his helmet and stood up. Fatherhood was his life now, but he hadn't come to teach younglings today.

“Grow, then get permission. Your teacher can find me when it’s time. I'm his son; he knows how.”

[Svo'k Lynd]

Thirty seven was a weird age, a weird time. He was most certainly not old, not by any rational standards, but he looked at the two standing in the room with him. One of them was his son and the other was technically his grandson, even if he didn't yet know it. It was an odd situation and for a man of his age a rather rare situation. Svo'k could not help but look at the both of them and think of the life that he had lived back then, everything that had happened and had things been different at least one of them wouldn't be standing here before him on this day.

The interaction between Damien and Julian was heartwarming on more than one level. Julian was on some levels his father's son, the youngling was intelligent, courageous, and just a bit manipulative. Maybe that was the Zeltron in him or maybe just maybe it was the good in Adrian's soul that had somehow find it's way into his own son. After all, Julian had been born mere hours after Adrian died, maybe there was something to be said about that and the inner workings of the force, but Jedi or not Svo'k did not dare claim to know how the Force worked. All he knew is that in what seems like chaos there tended to be order, an order that appeared random, but an order that always seemed to have a purpose. So as he watched Damien kneel down to Julian, the son of the brother that Damien had gotten along with and Svo'k felt a sense of closure about the situation. It had been six years since Adrian had died, six years since the greatest test of his resolve as a Jedi. That day he was confronted with a lesson that he knew in an academic sense but it had yet to smack him in the face until then, being a Jedi did not free you from trauma, it just better equipped you to deal with trauma.

He knew that in a sense Adrian's death was one of his trials and in a way, he was relieved that it had happened the way it did, he had always feared that it would have been him that had to kill Adrian. Instead his trial was one of commitment and resolve, he had to see the Jedi that killed his son, it wasn't his job to forgive him, but his job to understand that he did what he was supposed to do and there was nothing to be forgiven for. That was the hardest part, he wanted to be angry at Derry and Arty and for a fleeting second he was, but then he realized that there was no one to be angry with. That was the key, that was the trial, knowing that they had objectively done the right thing no matter how much pain it caused him.

His blue eyes followed Damien and Julian's movements. Damien, that situation was nearly as complicated if not even more so than the Adrian situation. Damien had despite it all grown into a fine young man and father, his wife was friendly and kind to Svo'k. By all evidence Damien had not only survived circumstances that rivaled Svo'k's own childhood, but Damien had thrived and somehow overcome everything. Svo'k was proud of him on more levels than he could articulate, Damien was a good man.

“Grow, then get permission. Your teacher can find me when it’s time. I'm his son; he knows how.”

I'm his son? Svo'k felt his chest warm and his stomach tighten, but not in a bad way. He...never thought he'd hear it said like that to another person from Damien. He'd be lying if he said that it wasn't one of the more happy moments in his life. Hearing Damien acknowledge that even when genetically it wasn't true, was overwhelming for Svo'k.

"You heard him Julian, you better get going or you're going to be late to your next class, you may tell your teacher you have my permission to be slightly late."

The youngling nodded and offered as good a Mandalorian Salute he could towards Damien and then bowed respectfully to both of them before leaving.

Svo'k turned and faced his son and offered him a warm smile.

"Thank you for that Damien. In all honesty it might be good for him, there is something you might want to know about him though..."

Svo'k cleared his throat a bit.

"Julian is the adopted son of Arty Orspach, who you don't know, but the reason he is adopted is because Arty was dating his mother six years ago, they met while she was pregnant...by Adrian as we came to find out, he was born the same day Adrian died."

Svo'k paused briefly.

"He's good though, Julian is very good, he doesn't know though, not yet, but he will soon. You'd be a good person for him to know."

[Damien Cerof]

“Good luck training, verd’ika.”

Jedi always seemed to bow from the waist when they were being formal about it. Damien hadn’t done much of that in his life, and he didn’t find it a natural motion in armor. Still, the nearly twenty year-old father dipped his upper body in a decent bow and flashed a relaxed farewell grin to Julian before the boy had scampered off.

That left he and Svo’k back where they’d started. His smile cooled a little when he turned back to the man who was a capable Jedi Knight, but Damien had consciously relaxed his arms and shoulders as his green eyes met the warmth of Svo’k’s blue ones. This was exactly why Damien had come, and he was plenty confident about it. It was to be expected that something good would still be stiff until you were used to it.

Then the next words to come from Svo’k were not what Damien would have expected— But he felt passed being surprised by much; he supposed. The lighter haired young man felt his arm and grip tighten around his helmet. He looked away toward the door instead of putting the helmet on. Adrian was always his favorite when they were younger.

* * *

Two Human boys were busy in some shady place between a stand of bushes and some back corner behind the old castle on Naboo. They didn’t share any particular traits or genetic features. The brown-haired one was much taller and stronger, maybe even twice as old as the blond four year old who had a Hapan look to him. The older one was much more authoritative, but both boys were built with healthy frames. Even the younger one seemed to have more than decent dexterity for his age, while the older was clearly advanced and he knew it. There was a matter-of-fact sense of family between them.

“Kashyyyk is much stronger than here. You know I have to hurt you if you come there.”

Damien shrugged. “I know.” He took the next pin from his brother and carefully tacked it through the squishier spot at the back of the insect and into the ground.

Adrian inspected it and nodded at him. It was held still enough that it wouldn’t get away now. “Are you too scared about coming?”

Damien shrugged and began to work off the wings. “Don’t know.” There were four wings somehow connected to the carapice, and it always took him a lot of twisting before he could get one to break off. “Are you scared?”

“About you or about me!” The taller boy’s eyes flashed with what looked like red. Then Adrian made his face more neutral and crossed his arms. “Being scared is being weak. You never let anybody or anything make you scared. If you do you never say it. Ever.”

Damien shrugged. “My ‘nother dad says I might go. Mom says no. Our dad yelled at my dad but I’m not scared.”

“It’s bad to be brothers at an academy. You’re smaller. You should be more scared. You can just. Never. Say. It.”

“Did Dad give your other brother to the Jedis cause its bad for brothers to be there?” Damien didn't bother asking about Johnathon. They already knew he wasn't going to any academy.

The older boy slapped the back of the younger one's head, knocking him away from the beetle work. “Don't ever talk about that! Tell me right now you understand.”

Damien huffed. “Okay I understand.”

“You better. If you ever say anything about that I will make you be hurt no matter what place you're at. You better be scared of that.”

“I got it.” The four year old shrugged and went back to twisting the wing. It finally tore off in his hand and there was some ooze. “Got one.” The beetle-thing tried to sting again but it couldn’t get away from the pins to hurt his fingers.

Adrian took the iridescent wings from him one at a time while Damien handed them off to him. “That’s pretty good.” He traded the fourth wing for a sharp little knife from his pocket, which he watched his brother unfold with a satisfied look.

Damien nodded and got the stinger part off in a slicing motion. He watched sidelong to make sure his brother approved of it, and felt proud inside when he did.

“Good.” Adrian bent neatly down and pushed the stinger part and the wings into the usual hollow spot under a log on the ground. His black clothes were cleaner, with less dust on them than Damien’s had.

They eyed the oozing beetle together for a minute. Damien pulled the pins out. He was ready to catch it, but the thing just skittered in frantic corkscrews without getting anywhere. “What now with this one?”

Adrian shrugged. “Something brave that makes it dead.”

“Then we’ll train more?”

“Yeah.”

The younger boy scooped the thing up and shoved it into his mouth, quickly crunching down on it with his teeth two times until the skitter stopped. His face scrunched into a grossed expression and he—

“Don’t.”

—didn’t spit it on the ground. Damien shrugged. He crunched it again and swallowed twice. His favorite brother nodded at him and handed him one of the lightsabers.

“Good, don’t get burned.”

The four year old beamed with delight and took the hilt. He never got burned.

* * *

The blond Hapan young man scrubbed his itching palm twice against his pants, then a third time. He set his jaw and watched the door where the Jedi youngling nephew he’d just met had scurried off to his next lesson. He thought about his sons. Cas and Evander were almost three. Talking, climbing, starting to train. They were still small, but he knew they were good. Adrian’s son was stronger for now, probably twice their age. He looked good too. They all did.

Damien sighed and relaxed his grip on his helmet. He turned his head back to Svo’k with an almost defeated expression, but he no intention of changing his mind about today.

“I wasn’t expecting that. But you’re right. It’s good to know him. We.. I want to know you better too. For real before the boys get any older. Apparently any of them. They said your schedule was fine after this... So. I want you to know in no uncertain terms that I am kriffing damn terrified of this whole interaction. But it'd surprise me if you aren't... And I would really like us to go for a kriffing walk and get something to drink before I lose any more nerve. That okay?”