"You aren't broken," she had told him.
Such unwavering confidence. Such clarity.
Such a misguided claim.
"Oh?" He played along. She had appeared at his side as he was cleaning his saber, pieces scattered over his work table. This appearance felt different, though - not as if she'd been taken by surprise by it as in their other meetings, but as though she had initiated it herself. He continued rubbing at a fitting with his cloth without looking up.
"There is still light within you." She believed it. Every time, in every way, she was convinced of this.
"I see," he muttered before blowing an imagined speck of dust from the fitting. His calm and casual airs were a lie, though he had enough of his wits about him to at least attempt to shield her from feeling that. But that was not even close to the only tool at his disposal to divert her laser focus.
"Is that why I killed Han Solo?" Eyes snapped to hers, and she finally faltered.
"Stop it!" She spat, stomping forward, tears clearly burning in her eyes. Even a creature devoid of the Force could read this girl. Her lip trembled.
Now he faltered.
"I know what you're doing." An edge she couldn't quite dull remained in her voice. "You want me to give up. You want to seem a hopeless case. But I'm not a fool."
An almost imperceptible grimace passed over his features. She softened. He frowned.
"Oh?" He repeated, eyes again upon his task. He felt a flare of frustration pulse through their bond without any attempt to hide it. He wondered how long it would take for her to properly snap.
"I may know why," she straightened and took a step forward, crowding his space. Before he realized it their eyes were locked and he'd stumbled back a step. "But I don't understand."
He narrowed his eyes. She had such an intense gaze…and her skin seemed to glow…or was that a property of the Force bond…? He could feel her breath on his face, her radiated warmth on his chest. Her presence demanded every ounce of attention. The rest of the galaxy be damned.
"Maybe I'm wrong," she finally spoke. She was a righteous burning flame, and he wanted to succumb in that moment.
"Maybe you are broken."
The cracked crystal of his saber fell from her fingers into his palm, and for a moment it felt heavier than a durasteel beam.
"But broken things can be mended."