Thought you were a dream.

Meetra was always full of nobility. This was evident not only in her actions, but also in her words and gestures. The way she walked, the way she tilted her head, and even the way she held a weapon. But there was something dark and empty about her, and it wasn't the lingering wound of her break with the Force, something else given to her from birth. The desire to subdue and possess. She knew about it, she couldn't help but know, and she was afraid of it. Surik has always been the first among equals, people followed her, believed in her, even prayed for her. A Jedi woman, and that was the scariest of all. Because the General was not only proud, resolute and implacable, but also merciful. It would seem to be the third one, but the soldiers didn't like Revan, much less Malak, as much as they liked her. For some, she was a second mother, for another, a sister, a daughter, a lover. And she was ready to love everyone, and the invisible, strong webs of the Force attracted people to her more and more, and she, like a spider, stared uncomprehendingly and waited. She was never alone. Surrounding herself with people, Meetra tried to escape either from loneliness or from herself. And what could be more terrible for someone like her than exile? And who can confidently claim to understand her feelings. When you choose between absolute silence and talking to yourself. When you don't sleep for days at a time, just so that in your restless dreams you don't relive the events on Malachor V. And those incessant phantom pains... It's been a hell of a long ten years. And then there was Peragus, Telos, Dxun, Onderon, Nar Shaddaa, Dantooin, Korriban, and Malakor V again. And you can't step into the same river twice. Because it's not the same river it used to be. And there were her favorite students. And most importantly, there was Kreia, who would allow an entire galaxy to die in order for Meetra to live. And exile and loneliness lie ahead. Uncharted regions. And the circle will close again. And on the Black Hawk, it's quiet, quiet, only the sounds of the ship and the dense, almost palpable unrest in the Force. As the exhausted Exile sleeps, she hears the echo of Darth Tray in her dreams. She reminds her of the inevitable and thanks her for everything. When Meetra awakens, she will suddenly feel that her inner wound is no longer there, that she is no longer broken or twisted, and her own abyss will be felt all the more clearly. She had to find out, not because she didn't know, but because she didn't trust her atrophied feelings. Because all he did was lie. To her and to himself. If there is no emotion, there is peace. "Atton, you don't understand, the Jedi don't renounce their humanity, but they control it. I think that's why this line is the first in the codex. You naturally desire the intensity of emotions and bodily pleasures, but the visible world should not limit a Jedi, or any human being for that matter, and please stop using the Force to show me your filthy fantasies, that's not what I meant by bodily pleasures... More precisely, this is not only." "You didn't like it?" I can change the channel. What do you prefer? Atton mockingly went through a dozen other scenes of varying degrees of frankness. "I can do it with you in the lead role." And then he regretted that he hadn't shut up. For she looked at him so calmly, so compassionately, as one would look at a cripple, and with such disappointment that Atton felt almost physical pain. "It's fine, we don't have much time, but I'll wait until you're ready, until you treat it with the respect it deserves. I see how the Force in you is drawn to the Power in me, and I will remind you that you yourself asked to be trained. But I have other students." The Exile wakes up in a cramped sick bay, and the first thing she does is probe the Force. And she feels it like never before. She mentally connects with everyone. Bao-Dur informs her that they have arrived on Dantooine, Mikal sympathetically inquires about her well-being, Visas Marr assures her that they will return to the Black Hawk as soon as possible, and Mira half-seriously, half-jokingly warns that Atton is the only one left on the ship and is probably busy doing what no one is watching. And Rand himself doesn't want to answer her. And Meetra gets angry, she jumps up so that her head starts spinning and she has to lean on the metal surface of the upholstery. Walk a little, just a few meters to the cockpit and when it gets there, it will have the right to demand an answer. Surik looks shabby. Matted hair, wrinkled, torn in several places, with a dirty hem of the robe. "What's wrong again?" She asks immediately. "I thought it wasn't quite right since we met on Peragus," Atton replies, not taking his eyes off the dashboard. "But that's not what you're talking about, is it?" And it's so close to failing. To squeeze him into that damn chair, to break down his mental barriers, and to take over his thoughts and feelings. "I love you." She whispers. "Oh yes, of course I do. Like any good Jedi, you love every bug in this galaxy. And even a pathetic person like me." "No, you don't understand, you're such a fool, Atton Rand." The Exile sits down at his feet, reaches for his hair with her hands, clings to it, and, lifting herself up with her whole body, kisses him so that everything resonates inside. "I don't love you as a student, not as a friend, and not like any other living being. And if I fall to the dark side, it is only because of this uncontrollable passion.