....want some more :3
Just for that you get angst:
Jon shouldn’t be here.
“Master,” he says, and he shouldn’t be so easy to drag, because he’s thirty now, not three, but Dark Woman’s grip on his arm is unrelenting, unshakeable, even when Jon stumbles. “Master, I won't—”
“Won't do your duty?” Dark Woman asks sharply, and Jon winces. She shorts, tightening her grip on his bicep, and shoves him in front of her into the lift. Jon trips, hits the wall, and the fear that curls through him is unbecoming, unwelcome, but it still makes it hard to breathe. When Dark Woman steps in after him, it’s like she takes up even more of the air, and her scowl is deep and displeased.
“Straighten up, boy,” she says, and when Jon goes to duck his head, she makes a sound of irritation and reaches out, jerking his hood back. “Stand up and stop sniveling. The Order needs every available Jedi, and I will not see you waste the talents I instilled in you picking off bounty hunters and stopping petty thieves. That is not what being a Jedi means.”
“I save lives,” Jon says, and it’s rough, hoarse, an effort to get out. “One life saved is meaning enough—”
“This is a war,” Dark Woman says. “Serve as a spy if you must, but I trained you to fight, and you will. Would you truly leave armies to be led by padawans knighted years early just so you can satisfy your own ego?”
Jon looks away, and his heart is beating hard in his chest, his hands are shaking. He hides them in his cloak, and wishes he couldn’t see the reflection of Dark Woman in the transparisteel beside him. She looks…angry, her arms folded over her chest and her mouth set in a thin line. He hadn’t realized, when she hunted him down in the Outer Rim, that this was her plan, and if he had—
Well. He likely still would have ended up here. Jon knows how Dark Woman is.
“Master,” he says, and there are no pleas that he can make that he hasn’t tried a dozen times already on their trip here. “I won't lead an army.”
Ice-blue eyes narrow, and Dark Woman snorts. “The same way you won't take a padawan?” she asks pointedly. “Some things matter more than your desires, padawan. Set them aside. Recognize the good of the Republic. Don’t be selfish.”
It likely is selfish. Jon ducks his head, trying not to look at her full-on, and says roughly, “I work best alone, in the Outer Rim, where the Force calls me.”
Dark Woman snorts. “You’ve grown attached,” she says, and Jon freezes, tensed for a blow. “Attached to the life you’ve established, your patterns and your friends. Jedi must not grow too fond of each other, padawan. That way lies the Dark Side, and emotion you cannot control.” A hand touches his chin, pulls it up, and Dark Woman meets his eyes, her own narrowed and assessing. “We all have the Dark in us, padawan, and we must keep it chained. Do not tempt it out of your soul, do not give it ground like this, or you will fall, and I will put you down myself.”
Jon's breath shakes as it escapes him, and he bows to her, not able to speak. She’s correct. He’s…glad for his life as it is. What he’s built isn't routine, isn't stable, and he’d thought he was safe with no possessions, no ties, but—
What are Fay and Nico and Knol but ties? He should have realized. He should have thought.
There's a quiet breath, more annoyed than anything, and Dark Woman rests a hand on top of his head for a moment. “Don’t hide,” she says. “Straighten your spine. You're a Jedi, and there is no room for cowardice. The Council will give you a posting, and I expect you to take it, regardless of your distaste. This is the duty of a Jedi, to defend the Republic, and at this moment the Republic is threatened. Be mindful of your failings, and overcome them.”
Jon swallows, but straightens, and Dark Woman looks him over for a long moment and nods once. “You have no name,” she says. “Just a task.”
“Follow the Code,” Jon says quietly. “Serve the Republic.”
“Acceptable.” Dark Woman turns, exiting the lift with a sweep of dark robes, and Jon follows, trying to fight down his nerves.
