Chapter 4

He walked in again, and was not surprised to find her in a large chair big enough for both him and her to sit in it. He sat down and wordlessly handed her a crystal. She took it and squealed softly in delight. It was an emerald green color, cut to perfection and polished brightly. It was long, and hole had been ground into the top. He had spent hours that day searching for the exact color. He watched as she took the golden string he had seen her fingering last night and slip the crystal on, tying it around her neck. She fingered it and he watched her smile.

"I like it. It's the same pretty green as your eyes."

He fingered his own amber crystal that hung around his neck from a green string, and she looked at it, and smiled happily.

"Give what you get."

She giggled childishly.

"Does this mean we're friends?"

He paused. "I suppose so, insolent brat, though I cannot for the life of me figure out why."

She gave him an impish grin. "Because I'm a brat."

He chuckled at her, and they settled into a comfortable silence.

"When are you planning to do it?"

He knew what she meant. "I don't know, brat. I've been thinking lately about what you've said. Despite my common sense, I'm listening to you." He replied lazily, running his fingers through his black hair.

She snorted. "Common sense, my eyes. I wouldn't have known you had any."

He glared horribly, while she snickered in his face. "Insolent."

"That's why you like me, remember?"

His lip curled and he said nothing.

"Got you, pouty."

He snarled and dug his finger into her side. She yelped and then squirmed.

"No! Stop! Xan!" He stopped at the sound of his old nickname. Strangely, though, he liked it when she said it. "Only you can get away with calling me that, brat."

She stared at him curiously before startling him for the hundredth time. By crawling into his lap. "Wha-?"

She snuggled in comfortably, and sighed wearily, grasping his shirt. He felt angry at first, until he looked at her face and noticed the deep circles under his eyes. He felt guilty. It was, after all because of him that she didn't sleep for a long time each night. He was tensed, but after a minute or so, relaxed by degrees and finally placed his arm around her awkwardly, patting her back.

She giggled, to his chagrin. "You don't do that right."

"Well spare me." He retorted sarcastically. She said nothing, and his conscience pricked him. He rubbed her arm apologetically, and was relived when she gave him a faint smile of forgiveness. Funny, he thought absently, how good that simple forgiveness felt.

What would it be like to be forgiven for killing all the Jedi he had? To forgive his old master? Was his master even mournful about it? Wishing for his forgiveness? He thought back to the day that it had all happened. His old master's face, begging for forgiveness. His own blinded rage and hate. His refusal. Qui-Gon's face twisting in grief at his words. And he wondered. What would it be like? Would it feel good, to forgive and be forgiven?

He pondered, and wondered. And that brought him back to the girl in his lap. He looked down at her hair, and gave in. What was it, about this girl? He wondered for the millionth time. What made him think about such things? He stroked her hair gently, feeling for the first time what that silky mop felt like. He tangled his fingers in it, and combed it back out. It felt- it felt like- like what one would think sticking a hand in a cloud would feel like. Light, airy, silky, soft.

He sighed regretfully, and stood, placing her back on the chair.

"I must leave, little one." She peered up at him for a moment, then smiled relievedly as she understood that he had put another piece into place in the puzzle. She waved gently, and for a moment, he was concerned. Would she make it to her room?

He suddenly searched in his mind, and found what he was looking for. A thread, a cord that stretched between them. He opened his mind to it and almost staggered at the brilliance that radiated across that link. He choked in shock. What light! Brilliance! He finally accustomed himself to it, only to find her hyperventilating in the chair. He suddenly realized what he was doing to her and slammed a shield over the link. The darkness in him was too much for her mind.

He carefully shielded himself and then opened it again. She stopped shivering and looked at him quizzically. He sent over a thought. /Can you make it to your room?/

She smiled faintly. /I'm not a youngling./

He rolled his eyes as he climbed back into his speeder. /Says you./ and he closed the link as he sped away once more.