Never Too Late (To Pay Your Fees)

[Hal Terrano]

Nobody ever says yes to the porridge.

Well, nobody ever gets invited for porridge either.

Still, he could do tea. It was just like porridge, only instead of oats, there were tea leaves...or in this case, teabags. He manoeuvred around the break room with more determination that was necessary for the occasion, but that was because of his curiosity. The kettle was on and boiling. Opening a small tin that was aggressively labelled by one 'Lizzy M' Terrano took a teabag from within and plopped it into a nearby mug.

She introduced herself and without skipping a beat or acknowledging her thanks he said:

“Kismet.”

It must have been some kind of magical eureka moment for the man because Hal almost spun around on his heel to face her.

“You are dead,” he declared, as if it were a statement of fact, voice still strangely stoic despite his very keen interests. Recorded history was not infallible, and this was a clear cut case of that in action.

“Well, you are not dead, you are here” he corrected, making an awkward apologetic hand gestures at her, “but why?” Actually, why are you not dead sounded quite sinister and rude, like he had expected it, well, he did expect it, after all, he had read it, “Or, I mean how?”

At least he was no longer frowning, that was a first. Although a small crease appeared as he worried about bombarding her with questions before making her tea.

“Oh. The water is still boiling.”

Which she could probably see.

---

[member="Bethany Kismet"]

 

[Bethany Kismet]

Bethany grimaced. Well, when he put it like that.....

"It's.... complicated. A long story. But, yes. I was- am- Bethany Kismet."

She had spent so long as part of Sekot. Sometimes for decades at a time, she would forget who she had been, what her name had been. She would watch the ebb and flow of the seasons, feeling every change, every falling leaf and unfurling bud. Identity hadn't meant much.

"And you're right. I died. At least, my body did."

She looked down at her hands. Small, slender, delicate. She hadn't really looked before. Slowly, she turned them over, frowning ever so slightly at the cool, pale alabaster flesh. Bethany didn't actually remember what she had looked like, half a millennia ago. There had been no reason to remember it. She hadn't even looked at her reflection since she returned. Would she recognize the face in the mirror?

Would it matter if she did?

"You said that period was as similar to this one as any other time in history. How much do you already know about.... the manner of my death?"

No reason to tell him things he already knew.

[member="Hal Terrano"]

 

[Hal Terrano]

For once Hal actively had to bite his tongue, as to not interrupt the woman's explanation of her not-death. There were approximately three-hundred questions that the archivist's mind desired to ask, all of them popping up with the curiosity that could rival a child's.

I have read about you. I know you.

Any respectable paleophile often dreamed of meeting figures of the past that they could only read about, but here she was, Bethany Kismet, in the flesh. Not a Force Ghost, nor a remainder of spirit left upon where she had touched. Here. Alive.

A small ting signified the boiling of the kettle and Terrano had to force himself to turn around to make the Jedi Master a cup of tea. Of course, being a creature that was so plain that beige walls found him dull there were no additions of milk or sugar.

“If I recall correctly,” he began, adding the water to the cup, “you died upon Zonama Sekot,” the man continued, intending to elaborate more. With a spoon Hal stirred the teabag throughout the water, quite unsure of how long to actually leave it in. There were more important things going on, after all. The teabag was fished out and pressed against the side of the mug before finally being placed in the small compost bucket the library had, which was funnily enough, only filled with Lizzy M's discarded lunches.

Wasteful young woman.

“The Sith had attacked the planet and it had called to you,” Hal finally resumed, turning back around and placing the mug before her upon the table (obviously with a coaster underneath).

“Master Kism...you arrived with a small number of Jedi to provide support for Zonama Sekot, primarily healers. There was a large fire, said to be started by Sekot as a means of self-preservation and she...you died protecting your fellow Jedi during the conflagration.”

A slight frown crested, Jedi were based around their own sacrifices but life was such a precious thing.

“The Sith were driven out and the remainder of the Jedi returned, reporting that which I have just stated.”

Pause. Pale eyebrows knotted for a second or two, seemingly dancing with the harsh creases upon his worry-worn forehead.

“Evidently this was not accurate. Do you mind if I inquire as to what actually happened?”

---

[member="Bethany Kismet"]

 

[Bethany Kismet]

Beth accepted the tea in silence, just a nod in thanks. A purist, the lack of sugar and milk was a boon, rather than problematic, and she wrapped her hands around the mug, breathing in deeply. Emerald eyes closed for a moment, and then, she nodded again, mostly to herself this time.

"Most of the broad strokes are there," she said quietly. If it was strange to be talking about ones own death, it didn't show on the calm features of the Jedi Master. She had recovered her equilibrium.

"Sekot called and I answered. The Sith threatened the Forest."

She paused, leaning back slightly in her chair. Some of it she could never explain. There were no sufficient words to explain how the trees themselves had wrapped around her, even as Corrie reached out a hand. She had accepted it fully- there was no other way to accomplish what had to be done. The life of Zonama Sekot was so much more than any other single life. And she had been dreaming about that moment for twenty five years. She had known for over half of her life, even if she didn't recognize it until the first time she set foot there.

The day she'd died.

"Sekot started the fire, it is true. But I did not only protect the Jedi, and I did not die in it."

She looked up at him, a slightly wistful smile on her face.

"Sekot asked me for help. And the Forest opened to me in a way I suspect neither of us knew was possible. I joined the Forest. So that I could protect her from the Fires. I think only one Jedi at the time knew the truth. But it was simpler to let them believe...."

She trailed off, chuckling quietly.

"I've spent centuries. Merged with Sekot. Part of her. Not simply connected to, but integrated with. And then...."

Bethany shrugged, suddenly uncomfortable and looked back down at the tea cup.

"And then, someone needed me again."

​[member="Hal Terrano"]

 

[Hal Terrano]

He didn't even sit, instead Hal stood there arms folded across a broad chest as he listened to her version of events, the correct version of events. The man could scarcely believe it in all honesty, even if it didn't reflect upon his stoic expression. Here he was, being privy to a rare truth in history and out of the mouth of a Jedi Master that was centuries old.

For the most part, the original story was accurate. That is, if the most part completely excluded Bethany Kismet's testimony. Zonoma Sekot. Sith. Jedi. Fire. The pieces didn't change, but one of the players did, or at least her experience did.

The archivist remained silent through her explanation, nodding with her words until the point of 'I joined the forest'.

Questions exploded within his mind.

How was obviously the main inquiry, but then how branched off into so many more different potential queries, this was mostly due to his lack of understanding into how a living person and living forest could combine. A Force Ghost or a spirit, yes, that he could comprehend but she was alive and well...

“What...”

Hal exhaled slowly from out of his nostrils as he tried to pick a single question to ask the Jedi Master first. They all demanded to be answered at once, but unfortunately the human mouth was very much incapable of asking them all at once, unless Terrano wished to make her think that he was having some kind of fit.

“What did it feel like?”

It was a ridiculously broad question, one that Hal expected almost all the answers to.

---

[member="Bethany Kismet"]

 

[Bethany Kismet]

There was quiet for a long, stretched out moment. Slender hands moved across the warmth of the mug, starting and stopping half a dozen times, as if the sensation beneath them was completely new. It was a subconscious movement, the Jedi's gaze distant and considering carefully a way to put an experience, one that defied explanation, into words.

"Sekot is generous," she said finally. She spoke slowly, picking her words carefully. "I did not merely exist within it, like a single part of the forest. She shared that being- that oneness with me. Without hesitation or reservation. Imagine the entire planet is your body- small things don't need to matter- a single hair falling from your head does not hurt or attract particular notice- but in the Forest, they *can*. Imagine being aware of the entire planet, all encompassing, writ large and in bold softness. Where the details are smudged from a distance. But at the same time, in the very same moment, you are aware of every leaf that falls. Of every insect that explores beneath the detritus of a century of fallen leaves. The sensation of a single, small rodent, nosing after it. You can feel the vibrations of it's whiskers- at the very same time you can understand how the angle of the rays of the sun will affect the high winds of the atmosphere and turn them in to rains and if they will be cold or warm."

She paused, breathing in deeply.

"Now imagine that you don't simply see and understand those things. But that you are those things. And that the balance, the careful, beautiful balance, of creation and destruction, of life and death, of birth and decay, are perfectly in synch. Not in every single moment, but on a scale that humans are not truly meant to understand. Sometimes, no words would be thought for decades, and you forget that words even exist. You forget that you were ever anything else. There is no you. There's just the Forest. But. Sekot. Sekot would always nudge. Always remind. She would..... call a name, questioning, and it was as though you never had forgotten at all. But everything from the past seemed.... to matter less. Time does that, to everything. This was different though. When seen through the lens of this- where there is no separation between you and the forest, there grows a sense that there is no separation between you and anything else. I though I understood that once. In the time before. But it wasn't until then that I truly understood."

Bethany looked up at him, taking a small, tentative sip of tea. A small, sad smile curled on her lips and she looked back down in to the mug, but didn't really see it.

"The Jedi teach that all things are connected. It's flawed, and leads to this deep misunderstanding of the galaxy and our place in it. Connected implies separation. And that is a lie. There is no separation. It's not a web. It's not two sides of a coin."

​She stopped suddenly, frowning.

"I'm sorry, that wasn't your question. My apologies for...." She trailed off for a moment before-

"Imagine feeling the warmth of the sun but also the cold of space- being aware of it, but finding no discomfort in the alternating seasons. You are safe, and protected, because there is nothing that anyone can do that will upset the balance so greatly that it cannot return to it's former state, given enough time. Cold is merely a time for quiet, for dormancy. Warmth is growth and action. Dry and wet are the same way- no discomfort, merely understanding of what roll each plays in the life of the forest, and finding joy in each for its purpose."

Looking down, her voice grew softer.

"It was easy to forget. And so much Sekot did not understand. So it would remind you of your name, so that you never became lost. But it didn't understand the concept of history. Of memories outside of sweeping patterns. So they seep away, in to the forest. Not lost. But forgotten. Until a day came that you overturned them again, finding them like something beneath a river rock. But everything would seem so distant by then, the edges softened by time...."

[member="Hal Terrano"]

 

[Hal Terrano]

The answer he received was so comprehensive that Hal could have hugged the Jedi Master.

Well, actually. As a man about as warm as a toilet seat in winter there wasn't much chance of him physically hugging her, but maybe like, some kind of brain hug? No. That sounded ridiculous. Perhaps he would just stand a bit back and appreciate the detail in knowledge. Yes, that's better.

For a few moments after her thorough answer Hal simply stood, he needed to. There was a lot to take in, and a lot to consider. Arms were still folded across his chest, face creasing in silent thought. He could understand what the Jedi Master was describing, but without he himself experiencing such, it was somewhat lost upon him.

How does one join with a planet?

The archivist didn't have the greatest imagination, not that it had been robbed from him through tragic circumstances, it was just how he was. Blunt, straight-to-the-point and based on fact.

After a minute the Archivist finally broke the silence.

“That sounds overwhelming,” he responded, the wrinkles in his brow still on thoughtful display. It almost seemed unfair that she had told so much and that he had responded with so little. It wasn't his story however, all he did was come up with the questions and he was more than happy to receive massive answers.

“Who needed you?” Hal said abruptly, “When you returned?”

---

[member="Bethany Kismet"]

 

[Bethany Kismet]

A smile flickered across her face.

"Not overwhelming. That was the key of it all. What made it so very different from having all of those different inputs in a body like this one. I like the quiet, not too many things happening at once if I can help it. But with Sekot, no matter how much we were aware of, how many things were calling and crawling, it was never too much. It was always the exact right amount."

Bethany leaned back in the chair slightly, trying to get comfortable for a heartbeat before noticing what she was doing. Deliberately, she stilled her body again.

She had been part of the forest for so long, she had forgotten what having a body like this felt like. And the galaxy was hard and cold in ways that she didn't remember bothering her before. With the comparison of being wrapped in Sekot, she wasn't sure if there was any way to feel that level of comfort again. It was a hollow pang that she kept thoroughly to herself- but it was never far from her thoughts.

His next question brought a wry smile to her lips, a chagrined look crossing her face.

"Not a who, precisely...." she replied, taking a moment to try to find a way to explain. Beyond the straight forward, there really wasn't anything.

"Korriban," she admitted.

The chagrin wasn't because of the place itself, despite the connections with the Sith, Bethany had never been known to deny aid to those in need. The chagrin was because of how self important saying that aloud sounded.

"I don't know why this one filtered through to Sekot and reached us, but it did. I was largely unaware of galactic events there, you understand. I felt the echoes, yes, but they weren't for me. But, something happened recently on Korriban, and...." she paused, shrugging helplessly. "So I went. First just through the Force. But then others came to Sekot, looking for answers. And I just.... knew it was time."

Bethany had never been a powerful Jedi. It wasn't her abilities that had made her what she was. It was her connection to the Force itself, and her trust in it when it called. It had led her again and again in her first life to situations that she had influenced in surprisingly far reaching ways. And now, she was trusting it again. Only this time, it was more insistent, almost demanding in it's intensity. It wasn't that she'd had no choice in coming back. But that the choice had seemed like the only one that she could possibly take.

[member="Hal Terrano"]

 

[Hal Terrano]

It sounded overwhelming, but evidently it was not. He supposed it was rather silly of him to assume that living planets functioned like people, but really, it hadn't ever come up. Now was the time to get that perspective at least.

Such a peculiar scenario.

Historical apparently dead Jedi legend, Bethany Kismet sitting before him drinking tea and informing him of the sensation and subtle nuances of being one with a planet. Naturally in the life time of a Jedi or Sith one would be likely to experience the extraordinary but this was something else. Not that it was a bad thing, of course, but just...who could have ever imagined it?

Still, it got stranger.

A pale blond eyebrow ascended upon hearing who...or rather what needed the Jedi Master's aid.

“Korriban,” Hal repeated almost incredulously. It wasn't that he didn't believe her, naturally but just that the idea of a planet renowned as a dark side nexus calling for aid...

It only gave more questions.

Yes, the Force flowed through all living things in the galaxy, that much was true but thinking about it in a planetary sense was near-headache inducing. Planets communicate with each other? Do they have relationships? Should he have already known this? His brow began for furrow.

“That is...” odd, crazy, mind-blowing, “...interesting, Master Kismet,” Hal finally said rather slowly after deliberation that was far too long for only five words. His blunt plain way of speaking did nothing to exemplify his genuine amazement of circumstance.

“Do the Jedi know that you have returned?”

---

[member="Bethany Kismet"]

 

[Bethany Kismet]

Her grip grew ever so slightly tighter on the mug. Shaking her head, she peered at the tea, as if it held answers to his question and she could read them aloud to him.

"A few individual Jedi do-" she finally said, a sigh clear in her voice. "But the orders that exist now....." She trailed off, trying to find the right words.

"They are not my order. Korriban called the way it did because of acts the Jedi perpetuated." Again she stopped, frowning at the cup.

In truth, her order had once been the same. It was why she had broken with them, so long ago. Taris, and the atrocities there done in the name of the Jedi. This was not something new, some deep change to the order. This was the order, writ bold across the galaxy.

She grimaced, chagrined.

"That's not fair, I suppose. You know the history. As you said, this era is much like the one I knew. But. No. They do not yet know I have returned. I'm not certain it's the right thing to do."

Bethany looked up at [member="Hal Terrano"]. Something was off. Beside the obvious at least. She did not reach out with the Force- that would have implied a certain deliberate effort. Reading what was already there was far more subtle and simple. The Force merely whispered.

"And do the Jedi know you are here?" She asked. Simple, direct, but without any accusation. The Force moved, shifting- she couldn't read his mind, or his history- nothing so clear as that. But something was there.

 

[Hal Terrano]

It was quite a shame that Bethany Kismet hadn't been around during Hal's time as a Republic Jedi. A surprisingly small number of his peers at shared his frustrations regarding the actions of the Jedi as a whole. They weren't keepers of the peace, they were instigators of war. Instead of defending the weak they were justifying why they had to be collateral damage.

Big damn heroes, but not Jedi, not to him. Of course, who was he now to judge what a Jedi was?

The archivist's expression settled into it's natural state, that was to say a frown. Truth be told, Hal had been avoiding the current affairs of the galaxy, but the man couldn't say that he was surprised by further atrocities.

He knew his own opinion the matter of her return and in usual circumstance he would have let Master Kismet know, but it was not usual circumstance and his reply would have been very hypocritical to say the least. Ultimately, however, it was her own decision.

Then she posed a question of her own.

Thankfully he had already been frowning. The man looked down at her for a few moments in complete silence but had to tear away his gaze under the weight of her own. Did they know? Would they have come for him if they did? Would Ava-

“No.”

---

[member="Bethany Kismet"]

 

[Bethany Kismet]

The weight of that single word held volumes, the story of a lifetime. Sometimes, one could say the most by saying almost nothing at all.

Bethany watched him, silence descending between the two for a moment. Despite the long, detailed answers she had been giving him, she was perfectly content in the quiet- and she suspected it was in long spaces between words that he was most comfortable in as well.

Taking a sip of tea, she turned the cup gently in her hands, eyes flicking down to the warm, dark liquid.

"The extant Jedi Orders are....." She paused, clearly searching for a diplomatic way of putting it and failing. "Disappointing."

She could hardly blame him. Whatever his circumstances were, it was understandable that certain types of Jedi would turn away from these orders. Whether he had turned simply to a life of solitude and contemplation, or something else, she knew what it meant to walk away from an order that could no longer be counted upon. No longer trusted.

A small frown flickered across Bethany's face. How many others were there? Like the two of them? Stepping away from the swelling, fetid mass before the orders collapsed in on themselves? How many walked the galaxy alone, still trying to do what they believed in? How many had retreated to quiet, secluded lives, a deep dissatisfaction never allowing them to find peace in those moments?

"Are there other orders, that I have not discovered yet?" She asked suddenly. "Or have they all devolved into these.... political, planet hungry monstrosities?"

[member="Hal Terrano"]

 

[Hal Terrano]

In the silence he was afraid.

Frightened that she might have asked another question, scared that she might have dug a little deeper and terrified that he might have told her the truth. What do you think of me now, Master Kismet? He was a lot of things, but he was not a liar.

Coward.

Weak.

Words that came, each time louder than before, harsher, more violent. Chipping away at a stony complexion a little more, like wind eroding mountains. Hal was lost in that moment, eyes clouding over, stare fixed upon a small scratch within the table's surface. He felt it in his chest. That great consuming darkness, ever-hungry, wishing nothing more than to devour these moments in time.

Disappointing.

The archivist's head tilted upwards as she had spoken again, wrenching him from the moment inside his own mind. Rather mercifully the conversation veered back on course to the prior topic before he had destroyed himself again from the inside. Who are you to call other Jedi disappointing? It was difficult, but he was nothing if not a man of steadfast fortitude.

“I do not know,” Hal finally spoke, voice quiet but words style spoken in his trademark abruptness. He knew of both The Galactic Alliance's breed of Jedi and the Silver Jedi, but the rest were beyond his expanse of knowledge, and the Jedi she sought were beyond the realms of publicity, such was a fact when one was more willing the defend the weak than consider them as collateral damage.

“There may be smaller orders, however you would have to seek them out.”

---

[member="Bethany Kismet"]

 

[Bethany Kismet]

Disappointing.

The word didn't come in a vacuum.

It wasn't even in relation to the words he spoke a moment later, though of course there could be a mild similarity. But that paled in comparison to the insidious rising tide. It slid, cold and implacable through the Force. Empathy was a double edged sword- yes, it allowed for a sixth sense of emotions. But it wasn't simply a knowledge of them. It was the sensation of them, deep and whole cloth. Not simply knowing. But feeling. Dark waters rising, grasping, drawing down, slow and firm.

And in that moment, Beth's soul ached.

She looked up from her tea cup, watching [member="Hal Terrano"] with unreadable emerald eyes.

She stood up without another word and moved across the room, her back to him. She scanned the shelves, then opened up a drawer. Returning a moment later, she set a candle on the table. After settling back in to her chair, she lit it.

"No flame's so small that it never burns," she murmured softly. She reached out with her hand to hover over the flame. Slowly, deliberately, she drew on the Force. As she spoke, she manipulated the size of the flame- first large.

"There is light inside of all of us," she continued, her gaze on the flame and candle, her words soft. "Sometimes it burns high, brilliant and casting itself over everything, for all to see. But those lights consume at a furious pace, needing more and more to feed them.....and cast the longest shadows."

The flickering of the flame was indeed causing long, curling shadows across the table. The melting wax dripped in a steady stream down the sides of the candle. Slowly though, she brought the level of the flame back down. As it calmed, the shadows withdrew, and the rivulets of wax slowed.

"No matter how small a flame gets, it always burns," she murmured. "And because it always burns, there will always be shadow there, lurking. There is no shadow without the light, the two cannot be wholly separated. Not without obliterating both."

She reached out with two fingers, snuffing out the tiny flame. No shadows- but also, no light. Just a faint trail of smoke, curling upward.

"With shadows, there must be light," she said evenly, looking at him again. "Their very existence marks it."

 

[Hal Terrano]

The silence came again.

Jaw tightened, the burning heat of her eyes upon him giving cause for further grief. Hal's gaze flickered for a moment, feverish movement that only settled upon Master Kismet's eyes for the barest trace of a second before finding solace upon the wall. Yuuzhan Vong biots grew darker, swirling of an inky blue polluting, revealing his psyche.

When the woman stood, he thought that it might have been to leave. Was it disgust? In that moment could she see him for what he truly was? Who else could be such an abhorrent failure that they could cause Bethany Kismet to leave a room?

COWARD.

WEAK.

PATHETIC.

It surged in his throat like hot bile. Words. Accusations. Again and again, over and over until they had lost all meaning and felt like an assault rather than a process of thoughts. The Archivist felt it in his chest. It was fear, it was pain. All that it wished to do was destroy and consume everything that stood around him.

However, Jedi Master Bethany Kismet did not leave, of course not.

He should have known that.

The woman returned to the table with a candle in tow. Naturally Terrano held little understanding of such as the light within the room was perfectly sufficient, although he didn't give it much thought, his mind was rather occupied all things considered.

For the best, playing with fire in an archive was really rather inappropriate.

His stare, in all its fragile intensity settled upon the flame as it grew and shrank in tandem with her words. It was difficult to say whether the man absorbed them or not. He had never been a creature of metaphor. Hal could understand her words, but relation was another story. I am a man, not a flame.

Not a man.

Coward.

Jaw shifted, as if words might have dared to leave his mouth, darkened eyes observing the trailing smoke as it dissipated into the air around them, leaving the archivist focused upon nothing once more. Words had never been his strong point, let alone in the face of internal conflict that so often bested him.

“I am a failure.”

---

[member="Bethany Kismet"]

 

[Bethany Kismet]

"All of us are."

Bethany watched him, over the top of the candle, the smoke curling tightly in the still air of the room.

The feelings of darkness, of guilt, of pain, were impossible to miss. Even without the Force, she could have seen the self-loathing on his face, in the lines of his jaw, the tension around his eyes. It lay thick in the air, heavy and curdled. How long had he carried that burden? How long had he beaten himself, flagellating across his soul every way in which he had failed?

Too long.

"Every one of us is a failure," she said quietly. "It's part of learning- of growing. There is no growth without failure. There is stagnation."

She did not reach out physically. She had no inkling that sort of comfort would be helpful to him.

"Success is a poor teacher. Failure isn't the end of the road. It gives us a chance to change what we are doing. To learn. To be better than we were before. Failure makes us humble. It reminds us that we are not gods with the right to build the galaxy to suit our whim. But that we are creatures of this place, and that, more than anyone, we deserve our own forgiveness."

[member="Hal Terrano"]

 

[Hal Terrano]

It was funny.

Her words were not so dissimilar to what he might have said once upon a time. Words of that same vein would have left his lips with zero shred of reflection upon what they meant. Perhaps as advice given to a struggling Padawan, a Knight steeped in doubt...or to a friend seeking strength in times of collapse.

To Avalore.

“I fell in love.”

The sentence was spoken in a tone reserved for death, it devastated the air around him. Hal Terrano had always considered love to be a force of great destruction. It sat high upon fatal pedestals alongside anger and anger. They were tenets of passion in its purest form, and thus they were dangerous.

A lack of understanding, too much pride to be the best, to follow the Code. A stubborn creature that considered the Jedi to be beyond such triviality as emotion. They had to. How else could they do what they did?

“...I had thought...”

He had been wrong.

It was at the very hands of his tormentor that he had realised this. Emotion was unavoidable, if not entirely necessary. It was nigh impossible to exist without it, and his ultimate failing had been in his suppression, not in his love. It wasn't the fact that such feelings existed within him that was the ultimate destroyer, but rather it was the large crack that appeared in stubborn ideals in what was right and what was wrong, what made him a Jedi and what made him a failure.

“...I had thought it was wrong.”

However, if Terrano had realised this fact, then why was he still here? Still faltering, still struggling, doubting, hurting, still suppressing? The answer lay within. The beast that sat upon his back, ready and waiting for that moment, for that slip. Every self-inflicted thought fuelled by it. Encouraging. Enabler. It fed upon every single moment, growing stronger. Eventually it would consume him, a miracle it hadn't already, or perhaps not. He was a master of repression, after all.

“...I know now,” Hal spoke, words leaving his mouth so slowly it was almost painful to behold. Features twisted, lines of both age and weariness growing deeper across his faces, “that I am human.”

But it is too late.

“Sith poison. Can you feel it?”

---

[member="Bethany Kismet"]

 

[Bethany Kismet]

Bethany had not pried into [member="Hal Terrano"] 's physical status- it was, in her opinion, rude, unless invited or someone were already obviously injured. Here now, however, was an invitation. And a very, very good reason to look.

Sith Poison.

How incredibly rare, in her own era, had been that particular affliction. She reached out with the Force, gently enveloping him. She tilted her head slightly, the sensations through the Force confirming his words, though she hadn't doubted him. The corrupt, slowly creeping sensation- slower than the passage of blood, slower than the beating of his heart. It moved at a rate beneath the rise and fall of his chest, settled, waiting.

"Yes," she said simply.

Everything he'd said. The guilt. The condemnation. Emerald eyes weighed heavily on him for a moment before she said, gently.

"Are you ready to let it go?"

 

[Hal Terrano]

It was something of a small relief to let her in. He was a man who clung hard to seclusion and personal privacy. It was not often that Hal would share what was on his mind, never mind his own intimate demons. The weight was still there, still heavy but in saying those words and inviting her to see, to feel offered a small notion of alleviation.

Especially given that the Jedi Master had not stood up and left, defying the prediction of his own festering doubt.

Quite the opposite it would seem, as a question was posed.

Letting it go was not something found in Terrano's repertoire. Was he even capable of such? Guilt. Doubt. Pain. Every repressed feeling that had been judged to be wrong in his own eyes were still there, still clung to. How did one even let go? It felt as if such was beyond his abilities.

The archivist's mouth shifted, as if he was trying to rearrange the letters within his mouth to form coherent sentences.

“Will you help me?”

---

[member="Bethany Kismet"]

 

[Bethany Kismet]

"Of course I will."

There was no hesitation. She didn't take a moment to mull it over. In truth, it was already a decision made. Not only in this case, here with [member="Hal Terrano"]. But a choice she had made half a millennia ago when she dedicated her life to the Jedi. Each case was different, each person unique, an individual. She never forgot that. Though she had already made the choice long ago, each time it occurred, she consciously made the decision to answer it the same way.

It wasn't habit or obligation. It was a choice, mindfully made anew.

*****

It wasn't as simple as just drawing the poison out of him. There was research to be done, and the process itself would be a slow one, accomplished in stages. To simply pull it out of him like a thorn- Bethany was certain the shock would kill anyone, let alone someone who had been living with the affects as long as Hal had been.

Each day, new steps.

But right now....

"Hal, why are all of the fictional romance books here in the middle of the medical references? Oh. These are *historical* romances..... egad, how many books did this one author even write about the Hinatas?"