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A Stone in the Woods, Sunday at Sunset

Nothing could last forever. Least of all a life.

And what had been given would have to be returned, now that the stone's power was dimming.

It had rested quietly here, in the middle of the woods. But now, the mists were pouring out of it again, spreading quietly over the clearing. Calling again, but this time asking for a return, a goodbye, and a passing.

[[ for departures and goodbyes. ]]

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Atton had his hands stuck in the pockets of his... pants. He'd given his jacket to Meetra the minute she'd mentioned she was cold, much to her amusement (and protests) and, you know, he was fine with that.

It looked better on her anyway.

"So I guess this is the end of the lane," he said.

E chu ta. Again.

Meetra peeled the jacket from her shoulders. "Are you going to be all right?" she asked.

The Force looks out for ones such as him, I feel, Kreia had once said. She'd believed it at the time.

Now... she worried.

"Yeah, you know me," Atton said casually. "I'm always fine."

He nodded at her. "You keep that," he said, "I hear it's probably cold where you're going."

He wouldn't part with that jacket for anything or anyone else, but now he desperately needed to.

"Yes," Meetra said dryly, "When I return to the Force, I'm definitely going to need a light jacket."

She tossed him the item of clothing in question.

"What are you going to do next?"

When I return to the Force.

Atton was really, really proud of the way he didn't wince.

"I don't know yet," he said, tone still casual, "Hang out somewhere, have a drink, maybe play some cards..."

"Atton," she said flatly.

"I don't know, okay?" Atton snapped, snagging the jacket with more violence than he'd really planned to. "I told you. I don't know anything."

"You should go back to the others," Meetra said, watching him.

Carefully. She wasn't sure if that annoyance was him shielding or not.

"You were talking about categories before. About what being a Jedi means to the stories. And the truth is that it doesn't matter. What matters is that you keep doing the right thing, and if there is anyone who can remind the others not to get drawn into Jedi ideals and remember that, it's you."

She'd never been a perfect Jedi. She saw no reason for him to be.

"No, I'm much better at reminding people to do the smart thing," Atton said, "and then forgetting to do it myself."

He tugged his jacket on, one sleeve at a time.

"I used to think turning to the light side - what I felt about it, the light side, it was calm, and warm, and knowing what the right thing was-- but it wasn't," he said, his words losing some of their bite. "That was you."

He felt it now, that calm, even if it hadn't quite worked back into his heart and soul yet. It wouldn't have the time to, either, and that sucked.

"You should go to your friends," Meetra said quietly. "Find your own calm."

Atton pinched the bridge of his nose.

"Yeah, I think history has kind of shown by now that everybody's better off when I shuffle my poodoo under the loading ramp, instead of pawing it off on my friends," he said. "All the leaking I've been doing isn't doing anybody any good."

"You're good at hiding," Meetra said. "But you're not that good."

Suddenly she wished for the jacket to tug on, at least, and thought of Kreia again. (Did he love me? He has nothing to offer one such as you, and even a fool such as Atton is not so ignorant of that fact.)

He wanted calm. Closure. Something. She should probably give it to him.

If she could. If she knew how.

Edited 2015-04-19 18:21 (UTC)

... They were being silent now, weren't they? This certainly felt like a silence. Not a small silence, a big silence. Not oppressive, but like... something.

Atton stared at her face, and he was aware he was openly doing so. He'd never had the chance to do this the first time around. Didn't mean he didn't remember what she looked like - vividly - but it was something else to have her here.

He should probably do something. This was his last shot. Any dreams of spending the night together were already long gone out the window.

"Do you remember Dxun?" Meetra asked.

Her words felt a little rough, like breaking the silence was something terrible.

"What, the first time, when I nearly got you to share that crawlspace with me?" Atton asked, smirking. Reflexively.

Some of the tension drained out of the conversation, and Meetra let out a snort. "That wasn't going to happen," she said. "No, the second time. I made you lead the strike team on the moon's surface."

Her mouth quirked.

"You did well," she said. "I heard that temple was full of dark side energy, but you pushed through and you saved the day. You were proud of yourself that day."

It'd been a total coward's move of him to make that crack, and Atton knew it. There was nothing that got that weird, expectant thing out of the air like acting like a sleazebag.

"I felt strong," he said. "Like for the first time, I realized that my Force sensitivity was an asset. That it made me better."

He shrugged. "I was mostly worried, though, what with you running around Onderon playing with Sith and everything. Well. Maybe a little worried."

"You were good, and you were strong," Meetra said, "And you were behind me every step of the way."

She smiled ruefully. She wasn't sure how much of that had been Atton and how much of it had been her strange Force powers, but she hoped most of it was him.

"You have better instincts than you think," she said. "You know how to walk in the light. Just remember Dxun."

Atton ran a hand through his hair. "I'll try," he said quietly.

It was just easier with her around. A lot easier.

Space, just look at her.

...and then there was the silence again. And that strange, crackling expectation in the back of her mind.

She wanted to reach out and brush the hair from his face. A little bit of it had gone astray, and it fell oddly over his cheek, and if she just reached out...

...then what?

Oh.

Damn it.

Atton felt a spike of a million feelings in his stomach at the same time and because he was him, it was the fear and the self-loathing that boiled up to the surface most violently.

He cleared his throat. "Anyway," he said, "I guess I'll see you when I see you."

He was a damned coward.

Meetra dropped her hand.

It had been a strange impulse, anyway. "Not too quickly, please," she said. "I'm not joking when I say they need you around."

Atton shrugged, and reached up to rub the back of his head. "Ah, you know me," he said, "I'm not too big on dying."

Meetra's mouth curved up into a tiny smile. "Then I'll see you when I see you," she agreed.

Then she turned around, and she began to walk towards the mist.

She looked back over her shoulder just once.

Atton shot her a cocky smile, and kept it up until she turned away again.

He was a coward.

He should've kissed her. That was the way this worked. That was... the way it was supposed to be, that big final kiss, nice and romantic, a last goodbye, then everything'd be settled, and...

Except if everything had gone as it was supposed to, he would have died on Malachor V, and she would be alive. For people as screwed up as they were, supposed didn't come into it.

So he did nothing.

He just stood there.

And watched.

He was proud of himself: he kept it together. Kept it together as she walked away, kept it together as she stopped in front of the mist and glanced at him over her shoulder, one last time, blue eyes heavy with the weight of the past. Kept it together as she stepped into the mist, right up until he saw the last flash of her ankle, and that last, sudden pulse of the Force bond between them suddenly winked out like nothing, like someone cut it in two.

Right up until that moment.

Then he started crying, and it didn't matter what he did, it wouldn't stop, and he was such a karking coward.

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A Stone in the Woods, Sunday at Sunset

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