Entry Thirty-Nine – Days after Geonosis, Two Hundred Thirteen
Compared to all my dreadful contemplations of it, the actual conversation that occurred was almost easy, professional even. Why does that somehow make it hurt all the worse? Confessing to another that you love them as the closest of friends and comrades but not one millimeter further is awkward, miserable experience even without bawling and weeping. I wish I'd been strong enough to cry in front of Morne, to be this person he fell for and not a stone-faced Jedi. Force! All the things I could have said haunt me. I feel such a fool.
Morne said very little. Mostly he nodded along all grim and stiff. The worst part is how he kept calmly agreeing with each and every reason, every excuse, I gave. I wanted him to fight back, to deny, to be unreasonable – so I could be too. Instead it was all government business, the doctor and the policeman, not Nema and Morne.
I want to throw up.
At least he didn't leave. That much I can hold on to, that most important thing. As long as he comes back tomorrow we can keep working, find a way, and maybe I can stop hating myself for everything I said, or for all that was not said. If we keep working, then friendship can strengthen and I won't have to miss him.
He did not ask me to leave the Order. Sitting here now, in the darkness of my room, I realize that I wanted him to do that. Stupid, selfish, girlish, awful desire, but by the Force I thought he might ask, and now I can see clearly just how much I wanted him to, wanted anyone to. I wanted him to love me that much.
An awful and unfair thing to want, since I do not feel the same way and I would have said no, but I wanted it anyway. I still want that, if not from Morne than from someone, some unmet future lover. I want someone to desire me sufficiently, think me worthy enough that they try to drag me away from the Order and into a different life.
Perverse, this thing inside me. I want someone to ask me to marry them with no intention that I'll ever say yes. How did I become like this?
I do not think, do not believe, any man could pull me from the Order, but that deficiency is mine alone. I do not foresee a love within me strong enough to break that bond. I don't know how to feel that way, to find that sort of perfect commonality. The idea of sharing the totality of life with a single person; it is not a thing I can embrace. A Jedi lives for everyone, not a single partner.
And I am a Jedi. A bad one, in some ways, but I smiled as I wrote that now. I no longer feel ashamed of it, well, not as much. I could leave the Order easily enough. Several of the local medcenters extended offers of under-the-table extra shifts months ago. As a doctor I have options and security in employment the Knights lack. But I want to stay.
There are actions I have been able to undertake while down here in the Bucket that are only possible because I am both Doctor Nema and Jedi Nema. Force preserve me, I would never have even met Morne otherwise. The burdens that title brings may not be pleasant, but no matter how many times I wish to discard them or desire some saber-swinging knight to help fight battles and speak to the media, this role belongs to me and I will not abandon it.
Morne understands that, I think, no, I'm sure he does. It's the same way he could not stop being an officer despite his father's ability to get him some zero-risk job in the bureaucracy. We are both where we need to be, where we want to be, and that precludes us being lovers.
No wonder he was so understanding. I suspect he held all the same conclusions bottled up inside.
Perhaps he feels sick too? I'll ask tomorrow. Will I make it through the night without vomiting? A good Jedi could, but I don't know if I want too.