Water streamed down her face. It was warm against her skin as it washed away the grime of the escape from Peragus from three days prior. She hadn't had a chance to eradicate the smell of fuel that lingered in her hair for three days and it was starting to get to her. Meetra was grateful the room the TSF had placed her and her new companions in had a small shower she could wash off and find solitude in. Since their escape, she hadn't had much privacy, something she wasn't used to after years of wandering alone.

After stepping out of the stall, Meetra cleared the fog that had settled on the small mirror with the side of her arm. She combed her brown hair with her fingers and stared intently at her reflection. She looked tired. The past few days had been taxing on her already feeble body. From having her kolto tank overloaded with sedatives, to fighting off a battalion of crazed droids, her body and mind were exhausted. Meetra quickly pushed the hint of self pity from her mind, remembering she should be grateful.

"It could be worse," Meetra thought, "I could've been like the old woman and lost a limb."

Meetra shuddered at the thought. Having felt a good portion of the pain Kreia endured through the Force when the Sith lord on the Harbinger cut off her hand, Meetra couldn't imagine the agony the old woman must still be in. If not for the scoundrel she encountered on the mining facility, Meetra doubted she would have been able to go on due to blinding pain.

Meetra paused once again to think about the man - Atton. He was tall, even considering her height - Meetra had always been taller than most women. At 5'8", many of the other Jedi had teased her during her time as a Padawan on Dantooine, but Atton had several inches on her. She guessed he was about 6'2". He had dark hair that went every which way. When the two first met, Atton had been in a force cage for several days - she had attributed his messy hair to being locked up, but due to the fact that he hadn't fixed his hair since, Meetra concluded that was just the way he kept his hair. He had broad shoulders but was still somewhat slim. Meetra couldn't help but find him slightly attractive...

"Get a hold of yourself," she thought, shaking her head, trying to get images of the scoundrel out of her mind. "You don't have time for that. Not with those things chasing you."

Meetra brought herself back to the here and now. It was late - she had decided to take a shower while the others were sleeping so she could take as long as she wanted. With a deep sigh, she smoothed her wet hair and wiped her hands on the rough, standard-issue terry cloth towel wrapped around her body. It barely covered her curvy torso and showed the majority of her long legs. As she searched the small bathroom, Meetra had a moment of panic - she had forgotten her clothes in the room.

Hoping that everyone was still asleep as they had been when she had left to take a shower, she poked her head into the room. It was pitch black.

"Perfect," Meetra thought, a faint smile making its way across her face, relieved that she wouldn't have to deal with Kreia chastising her forgetfulness or Atton's flirtatious comments about her appearance.

Meetra moved quickly and was virtually silent - a perk of the training in guerilla warfare from her war days. She grabbed her clothing from atop the footlocker at the edge of her bed and turned around quickly, making a break for the refresher when suddenly she ran into something that hadn't been there moments before.

Her heart raced. With one hand she secured her towel, with the other, she grasped for the dagger strapped to her thigh. As she forced the dagger up, she felt a cool hand wrap around her bare arm. A second hand grabbed her neck.

Meetra could feel the intruder's breath on her forehead. As her eyes adjusted to the darkness, she recognized the form of a collarbone quickly rising and falling. A large white scar trailing from the collarbone down the bare chest caught her eye.

Looking further up the body, Meetra and Atton's eyes connected. The two stared at each other for a moment before easing up on their attacks, however, the proximity of their bodies didn't change. Atton looked down a bit further and smiled, still not having let go of her bare arm.

"You just can't keep your clothes on around me, can you?" Atton's smirked.

Meetra felt heat rise into her cheeks. Even with her Jedi training - albeit incomplete - she never had been good at hiding her emotions.

"Scoundrel..." Meetra muttered, pulling her arm away from Atton. The sudden jerk of her arm made her hand graze Atton's bare torso. It was solid muscle, just as Meetra had imagined. The moment her hand connected with his skin, Atton pulled her close, pinning her hand between her body and his stomach. The heat in her face intensified, as did the knot in her stomach.

"Ah. Like what you see...or in this case, feel, eh?"

Atton's arm encircled her lower back. Meetra was suddenly painfully aware of her state of undress and clutched her towel a little tighter.

"Where's your shirt?" Meetra hissed.

"Where are your clothes?" Atton countered, smirking all the while. "Not that I'm complaining or anything," the pilot added.

"The floor, thanks to you scaring me half to death," Meetra sneered as she frantically scanned the floor in the dark for her clothes. All she wanted to do was to grab the clothes and run back into the safety of the refresher.

"Well, you wouldn't be the first woman to drop her clothes because of me," Atton laughed, "but usually there's a little alcohol and pazaak involved. You know, stuff you Jedi - or ex-Jedi - wouldn't know about."

"What would you kn-" Meetra stopped short at the sound of stirring from Kreia's bed. Not wanting to be caught in a state of undress like the first time she met the old woman, Meetra scooped up her clothes and pushed Atton into the refresher in one swift move.