(A/N): Hello, I'm back again! I've got little to say, except that I've been typing and retyping this chapter up for the past three to four days, and I really enjoyed making it. Hope you guys like it!

Their presence is no longer required on the twin-mooned planet. Superiors from opposing sides have issued instructions through the static-consumed, disrupted correspondence of holographic communication for the two generals to return to their respective planets. The fight, as Grievous was reassured by hooded figures concealed by shadow and ambiguity of his side, will continue without you. After all, there are other ways such definitive abilities can be implemented elsewhere.

He knows what they imply and does not question them; the holograph depletes to nothingness.

Thus, it is his last night here; his and one other's. He spends it by choosing to admire the hard-earned fruits of his labor.

The night announces itself with darkness alleviated by the occasional glimpse that the great, full-bodied dual moons can provide. It is more than enough to admire, from the lip of the cliff to the silent, sloping journey to its nadir, to view the devastation below.

She is there. Her back is turned defiantly to him, although both are poignantly aware of the other; although silent, the atmosphere is distinct with tension. But there will be no fight tonight, for this night is their personal armistice. He admires, openly, the poise she reconciles herself to as she traverses the massacre to pay respects; the sway of her single lekku, patterned and draping down the full of her back as she moves, is almost hypnotic.

She is beautiful. Although her Jedi heritage requires this fact's denial he is under no presumption to follow suit (and this is a night, different from others, where things that could not once be expressed can now be conveyed).

They are, after all, enemies. But were they allies…

His vision shifts away from her and back to the battle-induced carnage, a heady distraction from temptation as a shudder of old emotion resurfaces. There is no security in fantasizing about a quick tryst that would only leave emptiness in its wake.

He approaches, challenging and shoulders hunched, but she makes no move save to summon her saber, unsheathed, to her palm. It is a formality. There will be no fight tonight. She still does not turn; his eyes never leave her, continuing to encourage unattainable temptation. And as she moves, he follows, close behind but never imposing. A predator respects its fellow's territory, and she does not discourage his company.

Shaak Ti is the first to speak with a calm and polished tone.

"You must be glad to leave this planet."

He expected a curse, not a conversation. Yellow, slitted eyes narrow and he circles, not to attack, but to appraise as he draws closer and closer to her.

"There are many things that would make me glad, Shaak Ti," he growls out, "But leaving here is not one of them."

She arches a brow at the response from behind her but holds her tongue to have a more civil reply.

"I shudder to wonder what would," she acquiesces. In her peripheral vision the hulking silhouette of a menacing figure, garbed in a large black cloak stands nearby. "But I think I can warrant a guess."

"Can you?" his voice is low and dangerous; he is unmoving. He wonders if she can interpret the nuance in his words or if she will construe it as a threat.

To his surprise, he is rewarded with a grin, one that he would almost describe as devilish.

"You would be surprised at what the Jedi are aware of, General."

"Is that so?" he inquires, and he wonders if she can hear the smirk in his voice as they converse. "I would be glad to be enlightened."

He seems to tower over her although he is several feet away; respect for her grows as she does not shirk or hesitate, but instead broadens her shoulders to stare back.

"I'm sure. Unfortunately, some things must still remain secrets." she denies him an elaboration to her previous statement (there is a glint of mischief in her eye and he thinks of what kind of woman she would have become had she not been chosen for the path of a Jedi), "And some of us still have a code of honor we abide by."

His throat rumbles with a chuckle at the insult and her audacity. "Clever. But these codes are only determined by what side you stand on. If someone were to—"—he looms a step closer and metallic, mechanical talons click and clank almost inaudibly with the movement—"—change allegiances, however, then what would become of that precious system?"

She has to crane her neck at a higher incline as he nears but he sees no fear in her eyes (he thinks of Kummar, but they are warriors of a different breed. Shaak Ti is dignified and civilized while Kummar was wanton and unrefined, though no less cherished).

He can see the arch in her brow at his deliberate nerve to suggest betrayal to her cause, but he is again rewarded with a disbelieving smirk. She could never be swayed so easily.

"It would depend on the integrity of the person, then. The code itself is not important but whether the person themselves will continually choose to adhere to it." She returns, and the response is even-toned and able.

"How practiced. But what does the Jedi who recites these platitudes truly think?" he inquires, and he trails around her as she does so in return, refusing to be interrogated or become the lesser of the two in conversation. He nears, closer. Shaak Ti does not discourage him.

"Perhaps that is her own secret to divulge, General. One that she will not tell even if the enemy confronts her in a demand to know, in the hope it will turn them away." she does not retreat from the power of his stare, and they continue to walk the battlefield, both wary yet unwilling to leave the other's presence.

"Unfortunately," he replies, "It only has the opposite effect."

Shaak Ti permits herself one moment to digest this; not even the greatest of Jedi can remain totally eloquent and quick-witted. "Then I am afraid that we will both have to be disappointed."

"Will we?" she can feel the tension beside her and the open, daring question that is finally articulated between the two of them. He is very, very close; his presence virtually pulsates through the ebb and pull of the Force and from the proximity he assumes beside her. "I feel compelled to disagree."

He shifts to his full height; her figure falls in shadow save her right hand, illuminating the dark amber of her palm and reflecting the glint of steel encasing her saber, a last line of physical defense. His fixated stare is for no one else but her. "There is something more to you, Jedi, than you comprehend."

"Then it appears," she replies sleekly, "that the feeling is mutual, General."

An instant of stunned, apprehensive silence passes, before the Droid General barks out a harsh, albeit genuine laugh, though he does not return his posture to the regular hunched bearing he so often assumes. He withdraws, and takes the shadow with him, returning her to moonlight's illumination.

They return to walking, Shaak Ti serenely pacing and Grievous turning the ground with the click and clack of a mechanical tread.

"A true waste that the Jedi found you first. Had it been the Sith or Dooku, the outcome of this war would be different."

"In another life, perhaps." She treads, he presses; she resurfaces with a droll addition. "At the very least, I would be an improvement to the droids."

More than you realize. He does not move to voice this and had the moment allowed him to, it would have been interrupted by the chirp of the communicator strapped to the inside of her left wrist. It beeps thrice, imperious and summoning.

"My clone commander," she elaborates more to herself than he as she turns her hand over, revealing the small, flat device wrapped around the joint, "He must wish to talk."

There is an unspoken transition between their companies; save risking blatant exposure of their companionship in the night, their time together has come to an end. Shaak Ti presses a button to confirm her recognition of the pending message, but does not push it again to begin correspondence. Instead, she turns away from it, back up to him.

"Many thanks, General," she arches a brow again and there is a touch of a wry smile on her face, "For company and, ah, interesting conversation tonight."

"The feeling," he echoes her, almost taunting, "is mutual."

They stand for another moment, extremely close yet far apart, and silenced by the words their loyalties deny them from speaking, before turning to go their separate ways. Shaak Ti ascends the slope of the cliff through the path illuminated by the twin moons that stand silent watch over the midnight while General Grievous adopts the path of shade and obscurity on the dark side of the valley.

He fights the urge to turn and look back, and opts instead for self-control. They will meet again; although whether by the clash of sabers or continued rendezvous in the midnight hour will not be determined by them.

The silence is their goodbye. They part ways as the night approaches its august progression, and the war continues once more.

(A/N): Whew! Finally, a civil conversation on both their parts! Will wonders ever cease? It was surprisingly easy to write down the conversation, but writing the details of their encounter was what really tripped me up when I was making it. Anyways, in regards to what is spoken between the two of them, I feel like it was necessary for the two of these to at least engage in the recognition of their opposing sides and as to the tension, on many levels, between the two of them. With that out of the way, now more things can happen between the two of them.

Anyways, as always, I hope that you guys enjoyed reading this chapter, and please feel free to critique it or leave any thoughts in a review. Suggestions? Comments? I'm totally open to it! Thank you very much and have a good day!