Grievous looked out at the planet Raxus through the transparisteel window on the bridge of the Invisible Hand. Technically, it was the planet Raxus Secundus, but the first planet was of no major political importance, so it had always just been referred to as Raxus.

He sighed, and then coughed. I'll need to get another bacta treatment for this. Grievous hated the idea. Just thinking of it reminded him of the accident. He could remember a blaze of fire all around him, then air, then water. Darkness. Waking up in the bacta tank and seeing-his own corpse. That's what it had looked like to him, anyway.

"Sir," a mechanical voice from behind him said. "We have arrived at the planet."

Grievous turned to face the droid. "Yes, I've noticed." He coughed again. You'll pay for this, Sidious. "Ready my shuttle immediately."

As he was walking to his shuttle, another B1 droid approached him.

"You have received a communication from Chairman Hill," the droid said.

Grievous felt a pang of annoyance. Perhaps he had the Muun to thank for his current mental freedom, but considering that the banker had allowed the alteration of Grievous' mind to occur in the first place, the General was hardly inclined to feel an overabundance of gratitude. Still, it might be important.

It had better be important.

"I'll take it in the shuttle," Grievous said. "You are dismissed."

"Roger roger." The droid inclined its head and walked off.

When Grievous arrived at the shuttle, he switched on the holo-communicator, and keyed in the code to accept the call.

"I hope you have a very good reason for contacting me," Grievous said, and coughed.

"I wanted to see how you were doing," the Muun said, wearing his usual gray business suit this time. He frowned. "You sound terrible, you know. Sidious really did nearly do you in, didn't he?"

"I'll deal with it," Grievous rasped. "At any rate, I doubt you called merely to inquire about my health."

"You're right," San said. "I called to inquire about your plan."

"What about it?" Grievous said. "I've already explained it to you." Everything you need to know about it, anyway.

"Yes," San said, frowning disdainfully. "And yet, there was something strangely absent. Perhaps you simply are not interested in my input about your surely impending visit to your home planet, but-"

"You're right," Grievous cut in. "I'm not interested in your input, Mr. Hill."

He took a moment to enjoy the look of offended outrage he saw on the banker's face before he switched off the holo-comm. What had made it even more satisfying had been the slight twitch of the Muun's eye betraying an undercurrent of fear.

Grievous had spent more and more of his time reflecting on his past of late, and he had determined that of all the grief he had experienced in his life, his unlikely savior had been responsible for at least a solid quarter of it. If there was one thing he wanted to make very clear to the banker, it was that he would never again be Grievous' superior.

The trip to the planet was uneventful this time. Raxus had been easily retaken after the prior Republic attack. As he exited the shuttle, an entourage of droids greeted him. He had been on his way to the lodgings where he would stay when he encountered a familiar face.

"Senator Bonteri," he said, nodding curtly and continuing forward.

"General Grievous," she said. "I heard the news. Is it-is it really true? Is Count Dooku-"

"Yes, he's dead," Grievous responded.

"This is terrible news," the Senator said, her expression concerned. She walked briskly to keep up with the cyborg, her hands clasped behind her back.

"Yes," Grievous said, coughing. Most of the populace weren't aware that Dooku was a Sith, only that he had once been a Jedi who had left the Order due to his various disagreements with them. Grievous saw no reason to try to disabuse them of this notion. He was going to pin the Count's death squarely on the Jedi. Things would just be-easier that way.

"I was wondering if you would perhaps consider my previous offer," she said.

"I was planning to stay at the lodgings nearest the council chamber," Grievous said.

The Senator looked surprised. "How did you-contact them?"

"I didn't," Grievous said. Why would he bother to contact them in advance? He was sure that if they hadn't had the foresight to reserve a room for his imminent arrival, they would soon find one for him once he showed up.

"I see," Bonteri said. "Then I guess that's why you didn't know that that location was-destroyed."

Grievous stopped and turned to look at her. "Then I will stay at the next closest lodgings."

"Well, you see, General, they were all destroyed. In fact, the closest unaffected dwelling to the council chamber is-my estate. Hence my offer."

Grievous looked thoughtful. "I could stay in my shuttle." He coughed again.

She sighed. "We could give you a bacta treatment. That sounds like a nasty cough you've picked up."

"It's nothing. I'm-," Grievous ended the sentence in a fit of coughing.

"Nothing? That doesn't sound like nothing. Look, it's bad enough our Chancellor has died. We can't have you dying, too!"

"I don't have time-," Grievous coughed, "-for-treatment. I have to address-" more coughing, "-the Parliament-tomorrow!" He was becoming increasingly more irritated, both by the Senator and by the betrayal of what little remained of his organic body.

"I have an aerosol-only treatment. It's fast acting and it doesn't require a tank. Maybe it will help relieve your symptoms, at least until you can get a full treatment. It's going to be difficult for the Parliament to understand you if you can't stop coughing."

Grievous looked down at the Senator, his irritation decreasing slightly. If he didn't have to stay in a tank...

"Very well," Grievous said, coughing. "I will stay at your estate."

"Good," the Senator said. "You probably could use some company, anyway. It must be lonely with only droids to talk to." She frowned.

Lonely? Grievous thought. He had never really considered it fully before. But-he did lack for conversation. Most of his interactions as the Supreme Commander of the Droid Armies had been with Dooku, who would give him instruction, orders, and criticism. Sometimes he thought he had enjoyed mocking the Jedi as he killed them. He wasn't sure. He hadn't really thought about such things in a long time, his mind having been molded by Dooku to dwell little on anything besides his all-consuming anger. And his most recent conversations had been with San Hill, who he disliked, and with Sidious, who had tried to kill him.

"Droids are very bad at conversation," Grievous agreed. "At least, the ones we use for the war are. Their programming is focused on their martial ability, not their eloquence with words."

"That's what I thought. What is your homeworld? Do you still have friends there? Or perhaps a wife? Children?"

"My homeworld is called Kalee. And I have friends there, yes," Grievous said. He stopped walking abruptly. The mention of his friends on Kalee had triggered a memory of the one who he had lost a very long time ago...

Qymaen stalked through the dark jungle overgrowth, the two lig swords in his hands. His excellent night vision served him well, for he could clearly see the fresh tracks the beast he hunted had left.

As he continued forward, he heard a sound. He turned his head towards it, attempting to make out movement in the undergrowth.

He waited. The sound did not resume. He continued forward. Two more steps, and he had been met with twin lig blades at his throat. For a moment, he simply peered at the stranger's mask in confusion.

"Who are you?" Qymaen asked, frowning behind his mask.

"That question has two possible answers," the stranger said. "My name is Ronderu, but what is important for you right now is who you are."

"I do not get your meaning."

"Are you a poacher, hunting my mumuu beast? Or are you a simple lost soul, who merely needs directions to their quaint provincial village?"

Qymaen considered his response. His eyes met the golden gaze in front of him.

"Well? It is a simple question." One of the blades pressed closer to his throat.

"Please, I require additional time," Qymaen said. "It takes some effort, to invent a good name for a quaint provincial village."

"-General? General Grievous?" Senator Bonteri said, waving upwards in the approximate direction of the cyborg's face.

Grievous looked down at her, his eyes now meeting her concerned gaze. Grievous felt concern too, then, because he had almost completely lost awareness of his surroundings while caught up in the memory. Was this more of that memory backlash that San Hill had warned him about? Why had it happened now? What if it happened while he was in battle? He quelled his alarm, though, since he didn't want the Senator to think there was something wrong with his mind as well as his body." My apologies, I was simply-reminiscing. Now, where were we?"

The Senator's look of mild concern was replaced with a smile. "Ah, you were telling me you had friends on Kalee. Do you have a wife as well? Any children?

"Ah, no wife, no children-I never married."

"Oh," the Senator said. "Do you get to talk to your friends much, then?"

"No," Grievous said, coughing once. His coughing seemed to have subsided a bit. "I plan to contact them soon, though."

"That's good. I'm sure they're worried about you!"

Grievous didn't reply. His friends probably weren't worried about him, he thought. The ones who were still alive likely thought he was dead. In a way, he had been. Dooku had controlled his mind too thoroughly for him to have even considered making contact with any of his old Kaleesh friends. Even if his memories hadn't been suppressed, it would have been hard to think of friends when he had been consumed entirely with rage towards his enemies.

"Your homeworld is Onderan, is it not, Senator?" Grievous asked, changing the subject. "Do you visit it often?"

"Why, yes, it is," Bonteri replied. "Lux and I visit there twice a year. Onderan is truly the most beautiful place in the galaxy-well, perhaps I exaggerate, but I can't help but be partial to it. I did grow up there, after all. The wildlife is unlike..."

Grievous listened to her response with mild interest. Yes, it had been a very long time indeed since he had had anything resembling a normal conversation.

"And here is your bedroom," she said, gesturing to a large room on the second story of her estate. "If you need anything, you can ask our protocol droid, DN-4E-we just call her Danae."

"Yes, I'll be happy to assist you-," the droid said. She looked over at the General and his entourage of silent Magnaguards. "-or your guards with anything they might require."

Grievous looked over his four Magnaguards. He gestured over to one that had sustained some damage during its last battle. "I believe this one could use some minor repairs."

The Magnaguard followed the protocol droid down the hallway and Grievous examined the room. "This will be quite sufficient, yes," he said. "Thank you for your-hospitality." He coughed a bit then.

The Senator smiled. "It's the least I can do. How about we see what we can do about that cough?"

"All right," Grievous said. "This will be quite interesting to see. I was not aware that bacta could be applied without tank treatments."

The Senator looked surprised. "Really? I thought that was general knowledge."

"Not to me," Grievous said. "Bacta treatments themselves are not well-known on Kalee. And Count Dooku never brought it up."

"That's surprising, that he never said anything," Bonteri said. "The tank treatments are usually only used for the worst injuries. Though there are quite a few who prefer tank treatments even for less serious issues."

"I am required to undergo a bacta tank treatment once a month, anyway," Grievous said, coughing. "The injuries from my shuttle accident never fully healed. So perhaps that is why the simpler treatments were never brought up."

"Perhaps," the Senator said, though she looked doubtful. She stopped. "Here we are. The medical supplies room." She opened the door and Grievous saw a collection of drawers and cabinets, even an entire bacta tank ready for use. He watched with interest as she looked through the drawers and finally picked up a spray bottle. "Here it is!"

Grievous sprayed a bit of the substance on his fingers, allowing the chemical sensors on his fingers to first test it for any poisons that might be harmful to his organic organs. The only chemicals he detected were bacta and a few innocuous ingredients he assumed were fillers.

The Senator, perhaps mistaking his caution for confusion, spoke up then. "Ah, you just need to spray it in your mouth or-" she stopped. "Well, I guess that's not really possible. But I'm sure you get the idea."

Grievous laughed, which turned into a hacking cough. "Yes, I can handle this." He took the spray bottle and sprayed it over the openings in his neck cords, which also served as windpipes to his lungs.

He almost immediately felt a difference. "That is better," he remarked with some surprise.

"I'm glad to hear it," Bonteri said. "And please feel free to keep that in case you need it later."

"Thank you," Grievous said. He regarded the Senator thoughtfully. How much of her hospitality was due to genuine gratitude, and how much due to political maneuvering? He didn't know. At least she did seem helpful and pleasant, even if her actions were likely motivated by political self-interest. Even if this is all to curry favor, I can't say that I resent it. He could think of worse ways someone might try to ingratiate themselves to him.

"You're welcome, General," Senator Bonteri said warmly. She looked troubled. "I would invite you to dinner with Lux and I, but I fear that would be unkind given your-condition."

"Actually, I think I would very much enjoy that," Grievous said. "I won't need any food, of course, but I think the conversation would interest me."

The Senator seemed surprised. "Well, I'll set a place for you, then."

Sitting at Senator Bonteri's dining room table, Grievous was feeling slightly overwhelmed by the sheer amount of admiration the Bonteri child seemed to have for him.

"-and I know you have six gyroscopes to help you keep your balance, but that's still amazing, that you can fight balanced on one foot! It almost looks like you're dancing."

Grievous laughed. "I suppose it does. I must admit, I do enjoy the extra agility of this body."

"It's incredible! Although, if it's okay to ask, wasn't the surgery-frightening? I understand you volunteered for it?"

"I did volunteer for it," Grievous said. "Though I didn't truly have much to lose at that point. I was-injured in a shuttle crash. I lost all my limbs and quite a bit more. So my choices were either to accept an experimental procedure or live the remainder of my life in a broken body."

"Oh. How did that happen?" Lux asked.

Grievous took a few deep breaths to calm himself. "The Jedi sabotaged my ship."

Lux gave him a wide-eyed look. "Really? That's terrible. Even with all the bad things I've heard people say about them, it's hard to believe they would stoop so low."

"Yes, that's so appalling of them," Senator Bonteri said, her expression sympathetic.

"It is," Grievous said. "I have never forgiven them for that, or for their aid to the slavers who raided my homeworld."

While the conversation soon moved to lighter topics, he could tell that both the Senator and her child were sympathetic to the horrors he had undergone. It was-nice. When dinner had ended he thanked them both and walked to the bedroom he had been given.

I suppose I must try to get some sleep so I don't collapse again like last time.He settled into the bed and, even though he didn't strictly need to, covered himself with the thick blanket. He couldn't really feel the blanket on him anymore than he felt the bed underneath him, but he did feel slightly warmer.

Grievous stared into the darkened room around him, his eyes quickly adjusting to the dim illumination. He wondered how long it would take him to fall asleep. He had slept in the command chair a couple times on his way to the planet, but he was still re-adjusting to the idea of actually needing sleep. He thought of tomorrow, and the speech he would have to make before the Separatist Parliament. And it was as he was thinking of that that his mind faded into unconsciousness.

Grievous dreamt of the past, when his body was still whole, if not his spirit.

It had been a long day. Grievous just wanted to go back to his boxy grey Coruscant apartment, eat dinner, and sleep. But he also had a three trillion credit debt to pay off. A debt which it had turned out he could pay off by getting others to pay off their debts.

He had almost mistook the other alien for a human, but then he had noticed the antennae. Humans didn't have antennae. The face matched his memory of the alien's datafile. Undoubtedly not a lucrative target. But also not a difficult one, either, and every credit collected was a credit closer to finishing his contract. He sighed and began trailing the man. The alien turned around after he had reached an alley.

"Hey, noticed you been followin' me a while," the man said. "What's your name? Are you a potential-customer?"

"Name's Grievous," he said. "And no. Perhaps you should think of me as a-reverse customer."

The alien narrowed his eyes. "What kind of a name is Grievous? You tryin' to sound like a tough guy?"

"Why, no," Grievous said. "That is simply my name. And I do not think that you should have any room to speak on names, Mr. Sleazebaggano."

The alien scowled. "How about you don't talk about my name?"

Grievous crossed his well-muscled arms. His biceps bulged uncomfortably under the sleeves of the brown coat he wore. "Very well, I will not remark further on yours if you do not remark further on mine. But I'm not here to discuss your name, Elan. I'm here to discuss your overdue payment."

"Overdue payment? You must be mistaken," Elan said. "You have the wrong the guy, buddy. But maybe you'd like to buy-"

Grievous brought out a scanner out of one of his pockets and flashed the light in Elan's eyes, causing the alien to blink and hold a hand up to his face.

"Hey, agh!" Elan said. Grievous looked at the readout on his device.

"My retinal scan indicates otherwise, Elan."

"Maybe you just looked at the wrong record."

"I'm afraid not," Grievous fished inside his coat pocket and brought out a datapad. "A copy of your Corellian cruiser loan payments. Please note that the last ten are unpaid. Also, I noticed that the address we have on file for you is not your current address. Perhaps you would like to update it?"

Elan's eyes flitted nervously from Grievous to the dark Coruscant alley around him, probably noting the lack of other lifeforms present in this particularly desolate area.

"Hey, look, I'm kind of short on credits right now," he said, smiling. "But, I do have a deal on deathsticks-"

Grievous only shook his head, his expression dour. "Mr. Hill doesn't accept barter."

"I meant for you, buddy. Old buddy, old pal. Maybe they could even give you a sense of humor."

Grievous stared at the man silently, his face impassive.

The alien's expression became progressively more nervous. "Okay, I won't promise that. But ah, you might actually have fun. Or, whatever approximates that for you."

Grievous lidded his eyes, bored. "How many credits do you have on you, Elan? Why don't you empty all your pockets for me and we'll find out?"

Grievous opened his eyes as the internal alarm he had set earlier went off. Sunlight streamed into the windows in his room, causing a momentary feeling of disorientation as he remembered that he no longer resided in the lightless lower depths of Coruscant.

He rose from the bed, feeling increasingly irritated as he examined it. The blankets, sheets, and pillows were in various states between moderately torn to completely shredded, and the wooden headboard had several new gashes crisscrossing its ornate design.

Perhaps he should stick to sleeping in metal chairs or slabs. He sighed and turned around, walking to the door. It was time to get ready for his speech.

He wasn't looking forward to it.