You Can Never Go Home Again.

Chapter 2

Fixer studied the craft in front of him, only dimly aware of the two idiots and Camie coming up beside him; too busy drinking in everything he could of the sight in front of him.

The X-Wing must have come down fast – its nose was half buried in the sand as was one of its S-foils, still open and locked in attack position. Fixer frowned in thought, remembering something from one of the information disks he had devoured when he still dreamed he might go to the Academy. Weren't the S-foils of an X-Wing supposed to close into a more streamlined position when entering the atmosphere of a planet? The mechanism probably got hit during the battle Fixer decided, and had to bite his tongue against the rush that filled him at that thought. He clenched his fists at his sides impotently, for this battle scared X-Wing was probably the closest he'd ever get to a real battle.

Brilliant white light flooded the area and Fixer cursed virulently, bringing a hand up to shade his pounding eyes, and glared malovently at Deaks who wilted under the glare, clutching the light he held to his chest. Fixer snorted, satisfied, and turned away, going back to his study of the downed craft.

The light did make things in the immediate area easier to see, though it painted darker shadows behind the dunes and X-Wing. Fixer glanced sideways as Camie came up beside him, slipping her hand through his arm. Excitement made her look younger than the cynical, jaded woman he knew her to be.

"Where's the pilot?" she half-whispered. Fixer blinked, startled, and swung his head back 'round to study the X-Wing. She was right. The ship was perched drunkenly on its side, its cockpit facing towards them. The canopy had been forced open manually, though it seemed that the pilot had only managed to push it back about half way, and restraints – clearly delineated by the light – dangled loosely through the opening.

Of the pilot there was no sign.

"I was just wondering that," Fixer grumbled, frowning.

"Maybe he thought we were Imps," Windy offered quietly. Fixer grinned at that thought then frowned, regarding the X-Wing impatiently.

"We're not going to find anything just standing here," he declared and, shaking free of Camie, he began striding impatiently towards the ship, the other three trailing after him.

When Fixer was just a few metres away from the X-Wing, the sand suddenly erupted in front of him, beeping furiously. Fixer let out a high pitched yelp, falling backwards and landing heavily on his butt, staring wide-eyed at the apparition in front of him.

When the sand had first erupted, the three idiots behind him had let out short, frightened screams, but gradually they faded into silence. Then the laughter began, sniggers from Deaks and Windy, giggles from Camie.

Fixer scowled furiously at his humiliator hot, burning embarrassment stoking the fires of his anger. The short, stubby astromech droid in front of him continued to beep, its tirade of whistles and screeches conveying its warnings.

Growling, Fixer surged to his feet, the irritation of the sand that had worked its way into his trouser legs not doing anything to calm him. The snickers from behind him finally died away as the half-wits took in the stiff, angry line of his back. Fixer grinned coldly in satisfaction at that before he began stalking menacingly towards the droid that still hadn't [i]shut. up.[i/] He was dimly aware of the other three following him, but most of his attention was on the droid that had made him embarrass himself.

Fixer nearly shot out of his skin when the droid suddenly broke of its litany of beeps and whistles and let out an ear-splitting screech that went right through his head, before falling silent.

Fixer glared at it suspiciously. Behind him Camie was whining about how her head was splitting and Deaks was telling her that she sounded like Wormie. Windy's voice broke through the noise, his tone hopeful.

"Is it broke?"

Fixer frowned down at the silent Droid warily.

"Dunno," he answered absently, still considering his opponent. Gingerly he reached out to nudge it with his foot.

Nothing Happened.

Grinning maliciously, he swung his leg back to give the Sith-possessed little mechanical demon a good hard kick.

"Fixer, stop!" Windy's voice suddenly called out desperately in warning.

Too late. Fixer's kick already had too much momentum.

At the last second Fixer realised what was wrong and his eyes widened as his foot came into contact with the fork shaped protuberance in the droids side.

ZAP!

Fixer was flung back to the ground, flat on his back, body convulsing as the electrical current raced through him, leaving him panting and sore, stretched out on the sand.

When he finally had enough control over himself to sit up, Fixer was stunned to find Windy – 'Is it broke' Windy – kneeling, at a prudent distance, in front of the sith – spawned droid.

"Hey little guy, its OK," Windy said gently. "We're not gonna hurt you." Fixer snorted loudly and Windy cast him an annoyed look. He turned back to the droid, continuing to speak in low soothing tones. "We're not gonna hurt your master, either." Fixer jerked upright at that.

"What?" he demanded loudly.

"That's right," Deaks and Camie had come forward to join them now that the danger seemed to have passed. Cowards. Deaks was looking at the Droid curiously. "One man fighters like this often have astro droids with them." He nodded towards the ship. Fixer looked in that direction as he struggled to his feet, spotting the port behind the cockpit that he had missed before.

"So where is this scrap piles master?" he demanded. The Droid let out a low warning whistle and raised its improvised weapon menacingly. Windy ignored Fixer as he continued to talk soothingly to the paranoid astromech.

"Look, we're not with the Empire, and we don't want to hurt him. In fact, I bet he's injured, isn't he?" The droid let out a sound that sounded surprisingly like a growl and rolled forward threateningly, electric socket extended. Windy backed away from the over protective droid hurriedly, raising his arms calmingly.

"Whoa, no, I didn't mean it like that!" he yelped as the droid rolled worryingly near. "Really, we were just wondering if we could help him at all! Promise!" The astromech stopped its advancement, rotating its head piece as if in thought and let out an inquiring, though dubious, whistle. It seemed to be considering them closely.

"I've never seen a droid with that much personality before," Camie murmured softly. Fixer snorted. If that's what you want to call it, he thought. The Sith-possessed beast seemed to be wavering, undecided.

"Its OK Artoo," a voice called out, clear and controlled, cutting through the still air, though Fixer couldn't tell where it came from. "Bring them up." 'Artoo' let out a doubtful sounding warble, but it obediently turned and began moving towards a shadowed place where two dunes intersected a short distance away.

The gang exchanged doubtful looks but finally, excitement, and a sense of having got this far, might as well go the rest, they followed.

____________

Can you tell that I'm projecting my feelings for my own tormentors on to Fixer? "grin" This fic is turning out to be so therapeutic!

Alright, hope you enjoyed this chapter. Can you tell me if I got Artoo's character right? I was really nervous about writing him!

Next chapter we will see the meeting of the gang and Luke, and the first of the many revelations! I am currently debating how I am going to write this fic – it could go either of two ways after the first few chapters. It could either have all of the revelations fairly close together in a shorter fic, or they could be more drawn out, the fic longer, and with more action adventure. I'm leaning more towards the second option myself.

Please respond with comments and criticism – I feed upon them and they make me write faster!