She wasn't avoiding him.
Not really.
Not at first.
But as the hours slowly passed, first with work, then with busy-work, her apprehension grew and the necessary awkwardness of that first conversation grew with it.
She knew she needed to apologize; to explain. She'd seen the flash of pain when he assumed she was toying with him for some reason, and then the look of deeper and more enduring pain when he realized she was serious. She didn't remember him.
She didn't remember much from that time, honestly. Oh, she knew what had happened; knew what she'd done and how. That part was burned indelibly into her memory along with the rest of her so-called trial before the Jedi Council. But the details? The people, the sights and sounds of battle, the blaring of the alarm klaxons, the rush of adrenaline firmly suppressed? All of that was lost in the blinding flash of pain that followed the order - her order - and the silent cacophony as that order ripped through the force, and killed millions of mandalorians.
She occasionally thought about the people she'd lead into battle, wondered about them really, since she couldn't recall any specific faces or names. That truly bothered her; men and women who had trusted her, followed her into battle, fought and died on her commands, and she couldn't remember their faces. According to the Jedi Council, she inspired people to follow her, to trust her; how pitiful to repay that trust with forgetfulness. She sometimes spent her quiet meditation time trying to find those memories again.
She had given less time to figuring out what bothered her more - giving the order, or not being able to remember giving it. It was horribly difficult to say, "I didn't have any choice" when she couldn't remember if it was true.
She hadn't - to her current shame - given any time to thinking about who had put the weapon in her hands. How had that nameless, faceless person felt about what they'd created? How had they felt about creating it in the first place? How had that unknown person felt about her decision to use it?
Well, now she knew at least a few of those answers. She had spent one of those not-avoiding-him hours meditating and now, with a face and a voice to push her memory into action, she did remember him. She could infer a few answers from his current occupation and behavior, but not all of them.
She really needed to talk to him. She dreaded it, but she couldn't expect him to stay with all this baggage hanging over them.
Sighing, the woman known as The Exile stood and made her way to where Bao-Dur was patiently putting her ship back together.