Brief A/N: While writing this chapter, I was listening to An Unfinished Life by Audiomachine on repeat. I recommend checking out that song while you read (if you're able to multitask), as it gives a perfect backtrack for this chapter... which, I'll warn you now - is all flashbacks of Kyla's life, yet is still an important part of the story. Hope you guys like it! (:

P.S. The picture at the beginning of the chapter - that's India Eisley, and for those of you who haven't seen the cast list - she portrays Kyla in this novel! So, you could say... that's Kyla.

Narrator's POV

- Thirteen years ago -

Seven-year-old Desmond Valero watches curiously from behind his sand hut as a small blond boy stands beside two Jedi masters, a young girl, and some funny-looking gungan he recognized from his father's stories of Naboo many years ago - his father had pictures and very detailed stories to tell his children. Desmond watched with a cold eye behind the hut, careful to be unseen; he knew they were Jedi, and he recognized the boy as Anakin Skywalker... but he didn't know what was going on.

His younger sister pokes his back from nowhere, causing him to jump. "Kyla!" he exclaims, angered as she not only disrupted but scared him. "What are you doing?"

She giggles, a sound of pure happiness to his young ears. "Spying on you," the clumsy five-year-old laughs. "What'cha doin'?"

Desmond knits his eyebrows and turns back around, lowering his voice to a whisper. "See them over there?" He asks of the girl, discreetly pointing out in Mos Eisley to the boy, the Jedi, the girl and the gungan.

"Yeah," Kyla whispers back, backing behind Desmond to not be seen, "What are they doing? Are those..." the girl gasps, and slaps a tiny hand over her mouth. "Jedi?"

Desmond nods. "Uh-huh. I dunno what they're doing here."

"That's Anakin, I think," Kyla replies in awe. "He has a backpack on. Do you think he's going with them?"

Desmond shakes his head. "Dunno. He's a slave though, Jedi don't take slaves."

At this, the girl sighs. "What?" asks Desmond, turning around to her.

Her big, blue eyes were saddened, and she pouted, sticking out her lower lip. Desmond knew she didn't do this to be 'cute', she did it when she was generally sad. "You said Jedi don't take slaves," she pouted, "And... we're slaves."

"I know, Ky. It's okay though." Desmond whirls around towards the people in Mos Eisley again, his interest growing the longer they stared.

It was silent for a moment as the siblings stared at the visitors, who were talking to one of the slaveowners neither of them recognized. Then, out of the child's curiosity, she speaks up in a whisper. "Can I go talk to them?"

Desmond laughs pathetically. "No, no way."

"Why?"

Being the adventurous, rebellious seven-year-old Desmond was, he laughs. "They don't want you, they want Anakin."

"Oh." Kyla crosses her arms. "I still wanna talk to them."

"Well, you can't," Desmond whispers sharply. "Doesn't Gibius want you or something? What are you doing over here?"

"Watching you," giggles Kyla, suddenly snapped out of her pouting. "And no, he doesn't want me right now. Why would I be here, then, silly?" she pokes him lightly, and he turns around and gives her the 'older brother stare'. She giggles softly, leans in and mutters, "By the way, daddy has a story tonight. About Naboo, the pretty planet."

Desmond's face lights up and he smirks. "Did he tell you he had a story?"

"Yeah," laughs Kyla. "Do you wanna hear it?"

"Of course," replies Desmond matter-of-factly to his sister.

"Then you better get your work done," she states proudly, "Gibius wants you at the shop... now."

Desmond's smile wipes off his face and he grows instantly concerned and terrified. "What? Why didn't you tell me?"

She giggles, "I dunno. I didn't want to. Go get Gibius!" she laughs, and pats her brother on the back as he darts away from behind the hut, the opposite direction - the back way to the shop. He couldn't risk the visitors in Mos Eisley seeing him.

Now, finding herself alone to watch the visitors, Kyla crouches to her knees behind the sand hut, scuffing her light brown pants that were already messed enough.

Her eyes settle into a soft, wondrous gaze as she tilts her curious head, her little lips forming into a smile. Although she was a bit jealous of the blond, nine-year-old boy the Jedi left with, she watched them leave with intense curiosity and wonder - One day, she told herself, I'm gonna be a Jedi.

- Three years later -

The Mos Eisley Cantina eight-year-old Kyla Valero worked at was nearly empty tonight, something she didn't see very often. She had been working there for almost two years now, and had learned that it was definitely a much more difficult job when it was more crowded.

Now, being as empty as she'd seen it in awhile, she decided to take the time to relax and enjoy herself behind the sandy counters of the usually packed cantina.

Just as she leans back in a chair she had placed behind the bar, an eerie shadow looms over her slowly, carefully. The girl looks up, pushes her dark hair out of her eyes, and her heart sinks, followed by a knot in her stomach. Standing on the other side of the bar was a green, bug-eyed creature with pointy, long ears and what she thought were... antenna, on the top of his head.

Immediately she classified the eerie figure as a Rodian, a creature who thankfully couldn't speak English.

The Rodian nears her, looking unarmed - until he raises his right hand.

The girl nearly chokes on her own saliva at the sight of the gun only feet from her forehead as the Rodian snaps, in almost clear English - "You're the girl."

Too stunned to speak, Kyla assumes he's right, so she faintly nods, breaking out into a cold sweat.

"Good," replies the Rodian with a heavy accent she found disturbing.

She jumps up from the chair to her feet as the Rodian rounds the sandy corner of the bar, nearing her. "W-What do you want?" she chokes out in fear, "I - I don't have anything you could want," she trembles.

He says nothing, continuing to step closer to her. She retreats, backing away slowly but unsurely as she was only eight. Her back hits a sandy shelf and numerous glasses and bottles fall from it, shattering on impact of the sandy ground. Shaking, Kyla continues backing away, her eyes locked on the Rodian closing in on her.

Her eyes are set upon him and only him until she departs her gaze for less than a split second, recognizing Desmond entering the cantina silently from the corner of her eye.

"Leave her alone!" the boy shouts, sprinting to the Rodian and jumping on him, pulling his right arm back, twisting it behind his back.

The Rodian pulls the pistol's trigger, and Kyla ducks just enough for the laser beam to strike another bottle, breaking it into a million pieces. Kyla lets out a high-pitched scream, instinctively covering her head with her arms as the shattered glass rains onto her, thankfully not containing a liquid. Just the glass bottle.

"Desmond!" she yells as the watches her brother wrestle with the struggling but weak Rodian.

"I - told - you - to - leave - her - alone!" Desmond barks in between brash punches to the Rodian's green bug-eyed face.

The Rodian releases the pistol, and it clatters to the sandy floor. Kyla watches in horror as the Rodian struggles to regain himself as the boy continues to hit him, over and over.

Just then, to end everything once and for all, Gibius floats in, looking angered. "YOU!" he snaps at Desmond, who instantly shoots up and brushes himself off. "What are you doing?" He grumbles as best he could.

Desmond looks ready to say whatever it is he's going to use to explain himself. "This Rodian almost killed Kyla," he explains.

The Rodian groggily stands up and puts a deformed, suction-cup looking hand to his head, rubbing it in pain. He looks more confused than in pain; he was just beaten up by a surprisingly very strong ten-year-old slave boy. "Is she the girl you spoke of?" the Rodian stutters, asking of Gibius.

The Hutt looks confused, shaking his grubby head. "No," he says oddly, "Other girl is Twi'lek. Not her," he points a fat hand in the shaking eight-year-old's direction.

"Now get out of cantina," Gibius orders as the Rodian frantically retrieves his gun from the floor and practically sprints out of the cantina at Gibius' order.

"And you," he turns to Desmond, his gaze cold, "You come with me."

"Yes, sir," stutters Desmond, trudging behind the Hutt without a flicker of worry in his eyes - although both he and his sister knew he was going to be beaten.

Kyla knits her eyebrows in worry and fear, gazing up at Desmond, who glances at her before he walks out.

"But Des - " she starts, but he raises a hand calmly to show no fear.

"It's all right," he says softly, following after the Hutt.

Kyla watches him leave as she mouths, thank you.

- Five years later -

Kyla Valero sat on her bed, a tattered leather brown album clutched in her grip. She turned the page, and her face is clouded with dust, leading her into a hacking cough. With a wave of her hand, she swats the rest of the dust away from the old and unused album, and studies the pictures.

The first one to the left is an old picture of her father, from when he was very young. He looked like a mixture of both Kyla and Desmond, her fifteen-year-old brother. Kyla averted her eyes to the next page, which was surprisingly different.

The next page to the right was a page of their mother only, a bunch of pictures thrown onto one page. Kyla couldn't help but think she, herself, was an exact image of her younger, now deceased mother. She sighed softly, thinking of how much she missed her mother. She was very young when she died - a little over three, maybe, or four. She couldn't remember exactly - keeping track of time as a slave was a difficult thing to do.

Kyla flips the page again, to find a picture of both her father and mother on Tatooine as young slaves. She knit her eyebrows, wondering why there weren't any pictures of her father between being a child on Naboo or a slave on Tatooine. There were no pictures of his young adult life...

"Ky," shouts Desmond Valero from the other room, plucking Kyla from her thoughts about her parents.

"What?" she shouted back, but by the time her sound waves could reach her brother, he was already leaning in the sandy doorway of her bedroom.

He chuckles. "Nothing, I was just looking for you," he says. She cranes her neck behind her and tosses him a look of annoyance. He begins to approach her, then stops silently. "Wait a second..." he narrows his eyes, picking up his approach from where he initially started.

She cranes her neck behind her to glance at him, then turns back. "Is that dad's old photo album?" he asks, walking over to sit next to her.

"Yeah," she inhales deeply then lets it go, "It is. But, it's nothing special. Just photos of mom and dad as kids, then both of them as slaves." She turns the page back to the first one, allowing Desmond to see the younger photos of their parents.

"Wow," Desmond says with an overwhelmed sigh, "They really do look like us." He turns to his right at Kyla and throws her a witty smile. "Don't you think?"

Kyla smiles back. "Yeah," she replies warmly, "They did. Dad's just not aging well, so expect yourself to look just like him," she laughs as he hits her playfully.

"Don't say that," he chuckles. "I don't wanna end up looking like dad. I mean - look at me now," he says boldly, flexing his arm to show off his bicep.

Kyla makes a face, scrunching her nose. "Gross," she retorts, swatting his bicep away from her view. "Go show off for the Twi'lek girl that visits from Ryloth every now and then."

Desmond looks shocked, his mouth gaping open in a joking manner. "You didn't just go there."

She giggles happily, "Oh, I went there."

"You're gonna pay," he replies playfully, taking the book, slapping it closed and lightly tapping her on the crown of her head with it.

"You jerk," she coughs out as they both hack simultaneously from the arising dust gathering between the old book's pages.

Throughout their coughs are muffled laughter as Desmond tosses the book on the ground. It lands with a smack to the sand, arising in dust yet again. Desmond folds his arms behind his head and exhales as he leans onto the bed, his head nearly hanging off the side.

Kyla does the same beside her brother, both of them staring up at the sandy ceiling. It's silent for a moment, but Kyla can't stand the brother-sister mushy-gushy affection stuff, so she speaks up and breaks the relaxing silence.

"I really hate this place, Des."

He scoffs, "Yeah, me too. But, you gotta live with it. You aren't going anywhere."

She turns to him just long enough to throw him a shady, disappointed look before averting her gaze back to the ceiling. "Don't say that," she scolds, "There's always hope."

"Not for slaves."

She shakes her head and scoffs. "Well aren't you an optimist," she chuckles.

He chuckles in return and sighs. "No, really, I'm just being honest. Come on, do you really think either of us are going anywhere?"

Kyla quiets, beginning to think secretly that maybe her brother is right. "I... I dunno," she answers sluggishly, "I like to think there's some hope. Maybe just for me."

"Just for you?!" Desmond laughs, shaking his head annoyingly. "You're conceited."

"Isn't that an achievement for a slave?" Kyla laughs, glancing at her brother lying beside her. His normally tan face was scarred and bruised, with a little bit of dried blood on his eyebrow. With just a glance to his square-structured face, she automatically knew he had been beaten. She also knew he hated talking about it, so she ignored it.

"I guess you could think of it as an achievement," Desmond returns skeptically, "... If it were anyone else. Considering it's you - yeah, it's downright called being conceited."

"Jerk," Kyla scoffs, rolling her eyes.

It's silent again for a moment, but by now Kyla didn't try to put an end to it. Sometimes, she cherished these moments with her only sibling...

"Hey, you'd better be nice to me," Desmond suddenly says tiredly, "Soon enough I'm gonna be all you've got, Ky."

She sighs and thinks about this for a moment.

"Yeah," she replies glumly, "I guess you're right. Soon, you are gonna be all I've got."

- Five years later -

"And I'm gonna slaughter every slave owner - " starts Kyla boldly as she sits on the same old bed with her brother, who stops her.

"Whoa there, Ky," laughs  Desmond, but Kyla knew she was being completely serious. She knew her father and Desmond couldn't stay on Tatooine forever, in slavery. She knew, one day she would return for them and take them out of here, making sure no other child or adult would ever  have to endure something as dreadful as slavery on this horrible planet.

"Anyways, I got you  something. To remember me by." Desmond changes the topic of conversation by reaching into his tattered robes and pulls a  silver chain out with a heart-shaped locket attached to the end.

Kyla finds herself lost in the beautiful object, her stare wondrous and glorified as she saw her reflection coated in the outside of the shimmering necklace. She watches curiously as Desmond pops the locket open, revealing one side containing an old  picture of their parents on Tatooine, the other a picture of  Desmond and Kyla from when they were younger.

Back then, she recalled her father still owning that  rickety old camera before it was confiscated.

At last, Kyla finds the will within herself to speak up. "Des..." her voice  chokes, as she stare with wide eyes at the necklace, unable to take it  into her own grasp. "I... I don't need that. I'll be back, Des. I promise  I'll be back for you and dad."

"Take it anyway," he  insists, placing the locket over Kyla's thick, dark hair. Instantly she moves her hair out  of the way and gently grabs the pendant as it hangs from her neck.

"It's so beautiful... Des, where'd you find this?"

"Dad's old box in his room. Things from Naboo. You know, along with all that old Jedi stuff he somehow has."

Kyla shakes her head as she  feels a tear slip down her cheek before she could feel it coming to cease it. "And dad said you could give this to me?"

Just then, their father's  symbolic calming voice booms from the doorway. "It was our idea," he  says, "from us to you. Look at it in Coruscant during your training and  your new life, and remember us, not your slavery."

In this moment, Kyla can't decide whether she is overjoyed or deeply saddened. She couldn't explain what she felt; at her father's arrival in her room, she instantly  hopped off the bed and gathered him in a large hug. "Thank you," she  whispers into his ear. "Take good care of Des, dad. Des..." She turns, releasing her  arms from around her father and facing Desmond, who's still sitting on  the bed shining a weakened smile, "Take good care of dad."

He nods in return. "Will do."

Kyla turns back to her father  and gathers him in a hug again. She whispers confidently, "I'll be back,  dad, I swear I will. When I return I'm freeing you and Des, I don't care  what it takes. I don't care what I have to do, I'll get you. I'll  rescue you."

He smiles faintly at her  as she pull away. At this moment, Gibius floats in, regardless of the limited  privacy her family barely had. "Jedi here," he grumbles, going through some sort  of currency in his hands greedily before floating back to where he came  from.

Des stands up, now  looking protective yet still worried. Kyla runs over to him and hugs him stronger  than she thought she was capable of. Yet in this moment, she says nothing; her brother is already aware she told him she'd be back, no matter what it would take.

She releases him to grab the sack off her  bed and take one last look at the old sandy room she was given all these  bittersweet years of her life. She knew her life was just about to get good; only,  without the only family she'd ever known.

But she insisted on telling herself, You'll be back. She knew she would. No matter how endangering or worrying the thoughts may be, she told herself she would kill every last creature here if it meant  saving her father and brother. They were everything to her; but she knew had to  go with the Jedi. This moment was everything she ever dreamed of; she had to make a life for myself, at last. The life she always wanted.

She always  knew she was different, and now was she finally getting the opportunity to seize her  differences for the greater good.

Groggily, her family walked her out  of our old sand hut and out into the open Mos Eisley, which was thriving with  life as the noticeable Jedi landing ship was settled nearby. They  walked her in silence all the way to the ship, with the landing  platform down.

Kyla stood in the entranceway of the ship, at the bottom of  the ramp, with her father and brother. Their eyes on her were those  intense stares of despair; something she couldn't help now as she had to say a final goodbye.

She kept it to herself, but she hadn't seen either of them cry since her mother died.

But now, she was crying  too, and she couldn't help this either. Obi-Wan appeared in the glowing  light of the ship, walking down the ramp, gracefully taking her hand. He nods to her father and Desmond, "We'll take excellent care of her."

Gibius' wings buzz in  behind the four of them, and he lands on his feet to say one last final goodbye to Kyla, the slave girl he always knew. Kyla could feel the vengeance burning in her eyes as she looked at him, his grumbling  words having no meaning to her anymore. She couldn't help herself; she couldn't stop her thoughts. I can't wait to kill you, she thinks, not even caring to attempt at stopping the thoughts when she knew she couldn't.

Reluctantly, Kyla lets go of Obi-Wan's  steady hand for a moment, embracing her father and Desmond in one last  group hug. "Bye," her ragged voice chirps, as they all close their eyes and  let tears fall.

At last, Kyla turns away from them and follows Obi-Wan up the ramp, her back turned upon the only place she'd ever known.

As the ship door softly shuts behind her, She is free, and the last thought in her mind is Desmond's younger voice saying, "Soon enough, I'm gonna be all you've got, Ky."

- Present time -

Kyla found herself in the same spot she was often; the main control room of her Imperial cruiser, floating around her completed Death Star she was hardly interested in any longer.

She stands just as she had been ever since she completed her Empire; tall and strong, bold and fearless, like the Jedi she once had striven to become.

But now, now something was different. It barely showed on the outside, her flushed fair complexion trickled with still-falling tears, but on the inside it was shattered. It was brutal, painful, hard to endure.

Her dark hair fell messily around her distraught features, her sad yellow eyes and quivering lips.

Her heart ached with every step she took, every thought that occurred to her.

Everything she did hurt.

Especially now that she whispers to herself, watching the galaxy continue around her,

"Desmond, I'm so sorry."

Another tear falls down her face, plopping onto the metal floor as she watches. Her eyes were clouded with tears, her throat was clogged with a feeling of nausea she couldn't bear.

She wanted him to hear her; however he could, wherever he was.

She was all alone in the control room, alone with her thoughts - the one thing she couldn't stand being alone with anymore. It was painful.

She whispers now, her voice a mixture between a choke and a whisper, her throat burning with agony and her eyes clouding over with fear, anger, hate... suffering.

"Forgive me. I love you."