The burden in his chest, the leaden void where featherweight hope had rested on his heart, was unbearable.
He sighed, the sound rattling in his throat like dead leaves in a cold wind. The perpetual chill of loss that had settled into his bones and the mental ache of years of wartime weighed on his soul. He numbly walked out the door, not feeling the baked sand under his feet. He knew not how long he walked, only that he did walk. What was he trying to walk away from? Or towards? If anyone knew, it certainly wasn't him.
It wasn't until he looked up that he returned to his sentience. The glare of the sun in his eyes made him do a double take, shielding his eyes with his hand and squinting. The sun was bisected by the horizon, its bloody tinge tainting everything its rays touched with red. He turned away instead, to look at the flat expanse before him. Nothing but endless, monotonous, blank sand. It soothed his mind to behold such simplicity.
But at the same time, it reminded him of the hollowness in his heart.
But who had left it there?
Had it been Anakin? His apprentice for years, his longtime friend, having succumbed to the dark side and stabbed him and the Jedi Order in the back? Even now, months later, he was questioning the plausibility of his situation. Anakin had always been reckless, yes, but his heart had always been in the right place-sometimes even more so than his own heart. So how had he fallen so seamlessly, as if all along fate had meant for him to be a darksider? It didn't make sense. He couldn't bring himself to accept it.
But what wasn't he accepting? Anakin's loss or his own? After all, it was his fault that he had misinterpreted the depth of Anakin's inner dark as mere haphazard nature. If he had looked closer and intervened before things could spiral out of his control, perhaps he would still have Anakin by his side.
Not only Anakin.
All his life, he had known that attachment was something to be avoided for a Jedi. Yet in his years as a Jedi, he had fallen victim to deceptively dangerous crushes time and time again, never seeming to learn from his mistakes. Cerasi, Siri...and Satine. All three had died in his arms, in his protection. He had failed them, in a manner that he couldn't reverse. If only he could turn back the clock and save them, redeem himself of his most catastrophic shortcomings. But how? All he could do was move on and hope that he didn't lose his heart again.
But he had.
Asajj.
He scrunched his eyes shut at a fresh burst of sorrow, his hand flying to his mouth to stifle his cry of anguish. Too fresh a wound to pry at now. He still remembered the longing look in her dying eyes, the fervent frailty of her last breath, the clinging grasp of her stiffening fingers as she let go for the last time…
His tears would have to wait.
His force sense, ever alert, tweaked at the approach of a stranger. He whirled, his hand immediately going to the lightsaber at his belt. He knew better than to leave it off his person-even on sleepy Tatooine, he had learned dangerous things were bound to happen to a Jedi such as him.
Before him stood a figure in a dark cloak, motionless yet poised to bolt in any direction. Her pale hand was cocked back by her waist, ready to go for a weapon hiding in the folds of her robe. With narrowed eyes, he braced himself for his confrontation with this assassin, undoubtedly sent by the Empire to hunt him down. Just as well he had some action to take his mind off of his moaning heart.
But something made him pause. The eyes within that hood…
She cursed herself for not being more diligent in her stealth.
The ex-Jedi whirled around, his hand immediately going to her saber. Before she could stop herself, her own inched towards one of the sabers at her belt. But she was so out of practice that she knew she could never take on a fully-fledged Jedi, even years after the collapse of their order. What would she do if it came to a duel? Not fight her way out, certainly. She always got what she deserved; this is what she got after deciding to return from her exile-a firm reminder of the cruelty of her old life.
Or a memento of her longest-lasting hope.
She froze as suddenly as if ice had replaced her nerves. She knew that face. The sky blue eyes deepened with loss, the reddish hair still growing out of the military cut, the neglected beard steadily growing shaggy. The only trace of age was the silvering nestling in his hairline. He had barely changed...except for the old hurt she felt in his force signature. The hurt that made him lash out as she once did, that made him expect more pain. She remembered that way of life with no small pang in her chest. The tables had turned. Now that her old wounds had scarred over, it was he that needed a hand to hold.
She looked him in the eye, willing him to revert to how he used to be. She dared him to recognize her, to make a move as bold as the one he made years ago to save her. She forced him to remember, pouring her whole essence into his salvation, desperately pleading for his return…
...her prayer was answered.
Before conscious thought could return to either mind, they sprinted for each other.
Their embrace was climactic. With his arms around her, her demons evaporated as if they had never been there at all. With her heart against his, his hope rekindled with a blaze that instantly warmed his aging heart. Holding each other with the tenderness of lovers and the longing of ancients, they swore in their hearts to never let go again. It was the most priceless feeling in the galaxy.
"I thought I'd lost you," he whispered into her neck, tears streaking down his face unabashed. She leaned into him, releasing a breath and her permanent angst.
"I'm sorry, my love," she murmured, stroking the back of his head absentmindedly. "I won't leave you again."
"Don't you dare," he growled, holding her head in place to look her in the eye. "Now that I know that you live, I'd tear the galaxy apart to find you again."
"Don't get ahead of yourself," she purred, slipping her hands behind his back. His eyes briefly flicked down to her arms around him, before looking back up at her. He read her mind as clearly as words on a page.
They kissed for the first time in years.
Her heart pounded to be with him again, and his gave it all he had. He pulled her closer, holding her fast against the chill evening winds. The feel of his furred lips drove home the reality of what had only been her distant hope for the longest time. Her gentle touch, faint but real, assured him that she wasn't just a spectre of his memories anymore. There was no Jedi Order, no deep hurt to hold them back from their love now.
Only each other.
And they didn't let go.