The Exile watched the dazzling tunnel of hyperspace as it zoomed past the viewport, the cockpit dark except for the kaleidoscope of stars outside. They dimly illuminated her face as she sat in the copilot's chair in deep thought. She hardly saw the beauty of what occurred outside herself, she was concerned only with the ugly war within her own mind. So many problems had fallen upon her shoulders in the last several weeks. So many, she hardly knew where to start. A farmer loses his equipment, Mandalorians raiding Khoonda settlements, Sith popping up all over the galaxy, missing Jedi Masters, the desolation of a world, the business predicaments of a Hutt, being forced to obey the will of a thousand forces she didn't even completely understand, finding Revan, the source of the evil in the galaxy—
The Exile doubled over in her seat, clutching at her head. Why did everyone think that she had all the answers?! Just because she wielded a lightsaber and spoke of peace? Because she could easily take down a battalion of droids and their masters? Because she wore the robes of a Peacekeeper? Because she had the power to bring down a fortress with a mere flick of her hand? These were not blessings, as the Jedi preach. They were curses. Because of her gifts, others depended on her to solve their problems. Problems they were perfectly capable of solving themselves. But no. They have more important things to do, such as arguing over the silliest of things like livestock, or returning home to relax while she risked life and limb to make life better for them.
Hot tears began to streak down her cheeks. Even when she tried her best, people still berated her. So few were thankful. So few even cared that she had done all she could to better their lives. All she had ever really wanted was to be left alone, but her big heart always got in the way of what she wanted. Why did she have to be so selfless? Why couldn't she be more like others in the galaxy, and claim for herself what she thought should be hers? Why couldn't she just fly away into the Unknown Regions and never return?
So deep in her own turmoil, she didn't even realize Atton had come in until she felt a heavy hand on her shoulder. Her head jerked up sharply, forgetting her tears for the moment. His face immediately softened when he saw the tracks of sorrow on her normally rosy cheeks.
"Hey, what's wrong, Princess?" he asked gently, kneeling at the side of the chair, "You okay?"
The Exile let her face fall back into her palms and was silent. Atton wouldn't understand. He was a selfish person. Someone she envied. He could easily think of himself before others and could take anything he wanted for himself. He probably had in the previous years, before she knew him.
"Hey…" he said softly again, hesitantly petting her hair, "You can tell me, ya know?"
The fact that he was so freely offering to lend her an ear made her sob. She thanked every known and unknown deity in the galaxy for the man. He may have been an idiot at times, but he was always watching over her, no matter what.
"I—I—" she started shakily, "It's just that…everywhere we go…I'm always the one who ends up…being forced to fix problems for others. No one…no one ev-ever offers to help me with any of my problems," she paused to take a breath, "I'm always the one with the answers. Because I used to be a Jedi, a general, someone people think is bulletproof. B-But when I help someone, are they grateful? Hell no!"
At her outburst of frustration and anger, Atton raised an eyebrow. He'd never seen her like this, but chose to remain silent.
"All of these people in this damned galaxy are so damned self-centered it makes me want to scream and tear my hair out! I wish I'd never come back from unknown space! I don't want to lead this galaxy into a new age! I don't want to be the one to vanquish the Sith! I don't want anything but to be left alone!" she cried, clutching at the ends of her hair like she really was going to tear it out, "Contrary to popular belief, I'm not invincible! I have limits, just like everyone else! And no one understands that! I'm just a fucking workhorse to them, just something to be used and cast aside when I'm of no further value to them! And I keep helping people!"
She curled in on herself, sobbing into her knees. Atton was at a loss for what to do. He had never seen the Exile get so worked up and break down so dramatically. In fact, he'd never seen her in any such emotional state where she was hinting at a possible tantrum. He watched helplessly as she wrapped herself around her knees, crying so hard he thought she would break like a delicate glass figurine. Then he decided to take a risk.
Atton stood, and easily scooped the distressed woman up into his arms. The Exile offered no resistance. He situated himself in the chair and gently rested the woman in his lap, gently cradling her. The blond buried her face into his vest and continued to weep. He waited until she quieted, tenderly petting her luscious curls, now damp and limp in his hands.
Eventually, she was quiet again, her hands limply clinging to his tear-soaked shirt. Silence reigned once more in the cockpit, the only sound being the humming of the hyperdrive at the back of the ship and the soft beeping of the consoles around them.
"I hate who I am…" the Exile muttered softly, finally breaking the silence.
Atton looked down at her in surprise.
"Why?" He asked gently, caressing her wet cheek.
"I don't have the capability to be selfish, like you," she whispered, closing her brilliant blue eyes, "I wish I were you, sometimes."
Atton winced at the sentence, but didn't comment on her poor selection of person.
"You have the capability," he murmured gently against her hair, "You just haven't had the will to use it. You've got a big heart, kid. It's not that you can't say no, you just won't let yourself say it."
Hesitantly, the Exile raised her head to look at him. Atton could now see that she'd been stretched too thin of late. Dark circles had formed under her eyes, and her cheeks were sunken in. All this running around being a Jedi was really getting to her and wearing her down. He had never seen it before, because the few times she was met with gratitude, her face had lit up like the twin suns on a Tatooine morning. He felt his heart sink. Atton felt like he'd let her down somehow, letting her take on so many burdens.
"You really think I could allow myself to say no once in awhile?" she asked in a weary tone.
"Of course, Princess. You've got feelings, too. Remember that you've got limits, kid. You don't have to bend over backwards for everyone," he said gently as he brushed the golden strands of hair out of her face, "Selfishness resides in everyone. And its when you bend to that need that determines whether you're purely selfish, or selfless. But no one is perfectly selfless, kid. I'm sure even the wisest, most pure-hearted Jedi has moments where even he says enough is enough."
The Exile felt a weak smile pull at her lips as she looked up at the rogue. She would never have expected this wisdom from him, but in hindsight, it made sense. Atton had more experience with people than she did, and he'd seen many more things on a different level. And he'd always looked after her, never steering her wrong. Maybe he was right. It was time to stand up for herself.
"Next planet we come to, if a person asks a favor of you that isn't absolutely life and death, you're gonna say no, right?" He asked expectantly.
The Exile's smile brightened, "Right. Unless it's credits."
"Right, those, too," He said with a grin.
The Exile settled back against his chest again, feeling a lot better. Sometimes, the wisest advice came from the most unexpected places. She closed her eyes, listening to her pilot's heartbeat, feeling his strong chest rise and fall with each breath he took. His hands were still in her hair, tracing each tress as it fell down her shoulders. She began to feel at peace again. This was right. Being here, in his arms, listening to his consoling advice.
"You gonna get up, kid?" He asked after a time.
She looked up at him and studied his dark, handsome features, his narrow hazel eyes.
"No," She stated firmly, resting her head against his chest again.
The rogue chuckled, "Good."
For several moments, she stared into the dark leather of his vest, pondering.
"Xele," She said softly.
"Huh?" He asked, looking down at her.
"My name. It's Xele. Xele Hristo."
And there, she could feel it. A faint fluttering of his heart.
"Xele. I like that," He murmured.
Xele smiled as she closed her eyes, "I think I'm going to like being selfish."