Chapter 2
"Zekk!"
He looked up startled, almost dropping his datapad. "Yeah?"
The voice through his door was muffled, but unmistakably Jaina's. "Can we talk yet?"
He looked down at the datapad in his hands. She didn't understand. No one ever understood. He sighed, putting the datapad down and pushing to his feet. He reached up to tie back the long hair that hung around his face before taking a glance of himself in the mirror.
He looked horrible.
They'd been on Corriban for the better part of two days, most of which he'd been huddled in his cabin for. Trying to make sense of what was happening, of why it was happening now. He'd been unable to explain his actions to her, to explain the horror she'd suddenly felt from him.
He'd been unable to explain why he'd deserted her in the middle of the street and run back to his ship as if his life depended on it.
Even if he hadn't been able to explain it to her, he now understood why he hadn't wanted to come to this planet. This planet was the key to unraveling the little white lie that had become his life; this planet and what it held had the power to destroy the life he'd painstakingly built for himself.
He rubbed one hand over his face, feeling the stubble along his jaw, the weariness in his features. He'd spent two days searching for balance, for the equilibrium that -
"Zekk?"
"I heard you, Jaina." His voice sounded weary, pained, even to his own ears. He strode to the door and unlocked it, staring down into concerned, liquid brown eyes.
"You look horrible."
He smiled weakly, but didn't invite her in. "I just need some sleep."
"Then what have you been doing for two days?"
He wasn't about to tell her he'd been writing a diary about the last eleven years of his life. He wasn't about to admit to it just yet. "Thinking. Tomorrow's the function we came for, right?"
She nodded, watching him with worried eyes.
"I'll be ready." He closed the door in her face, unable to continue looking down into those eyes he was sure saw too much. He placed his forehead against the door, closing his eyes as he struggled with the sudden sense of being adrift.
He'd been Zekk for eleven years. Eleven long, hard fought years to define himself as something other than a child who couldn't stand up to his father. And he'd failed.
He'd failed to move beyond the pain, to deal with it. He'd failed to accept it as a part of him. He'd failed to find the inner peace required of the Jedi, the inner peace that would prevent his fall to the darkside.
He'd failed to stop running.