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Ben had been released. Four days respite from training at the New Temple. Uncle Luke had given him two scrolls to study in those four days. Not that he would be otherwise occupied; his father was delayed by another day, and his mother had been called to a meeting she could have rescheduled, but didn't.
Ben felt decidedly unwanted.
His mood was not improved when his mother begged his help; she wanted to leave the Sellas' girl with him for the duration of her meeting. They would all be going, and the droid that usually took care of her was out of commission.
At 16, Ben had no interest in spending time with nine year old girls, but his mother was never to be denied when she was busy, so he nodded and greeted Korr politely at the door.
His memories of her, before he left for the Temple, were vague. A little brown blur, laughter and fuzzy hair. She was more sedate now, though she still smiled readily, and he deigned to return it. It was not her fault, after all, and a part of him knew he would rather some company, than none.
“Just be nice to one another... keep her entertained... she's very good...” Leia broke off as her comm buzzed. “I've got to run, thank you sweetheart.”
“Bye Mum.” The door whooshed closed.
“So, Korrie, what should we do?” Playing at being an adult wouldn't be that bad. He didn't have any siblings, and the kids at the Temple either kept their distance, or followed him like strange little canines, drawn in by the power always buzzing around him. He found it... uncomfortable.
Korrie was as Force sensitive as a brick, as his father, so she ignored him, heading straight to the table in the main room to make herself comfortable.
“I've got homework to do,” she said, by way of explanation.
Ben shrugged, “Me too.” He fetched his scrolls, “If you need help, you can ask.”
“It's physics, I don't think you can help.” Slightly offended, Ben glanced down at her holopad, physics for a 9 year old, gifted or not, he could manage.
“I think I could help with those,” he indicated her simple equations.
“Jedi don't believe in physics.”
“Don't we?” Ben asked, turning from his scrolls to fix Korrie with a quizzical look. He knew he frightened the little ones sometimes, so he tried to soften his face. But it wasn't really his expression that scared them, it was the feeling they got from him, a feeling Korrie didn't have.
“No, you don't. My mum told me.” Ben grinned despite himself, he liked Korrie, she'd do well in his mother's field.
“I'm studying under Master Luke, the head of the New Jedi Order, and we learn physics.”
“But you make things float – that's not physics!”
“The Force is part of the physical makeup of the world Korrie, it's just another expression of energy.” You'll learn about it when you're older, he was about to say, but stopped himself. Luke said the truest marker of understanding, was ability to explain; even to a child. Ben had seen him explain gravitational fields using floating pebbles.
“It's movement, at a molecular level,” he said. “Like sound, or heat. You can't see a vibration in the air, but you can feel it, can't you? It's all physics.” Korrie considered him, then nodded a little,
“So you really can make things fly?” Ben grinned. The benefit of non-Force-sensitive children was how easy they were to amaze. He was 16, he liked to show off, and there was rarely an audience as receptive as Korr Sella. Since childhood, his use of the the Force had often been more likely to frighten, than impress.
He made her styli fly. Fluttered scrolls around her head. Tapped her on the nose with nothing more than the invisible presence of the Force.
She climbed on the chair, trying to catch the things he made dance for her. It was so easy. His uncle was constantly questioning his control, testing, demanding, more more more... but without a judgemental audience, Ben was calm enough to keep a dozen things within his mind's grasp at once – and if he did drop them all, Korrie wouldn't care.
She was enjoying the game too much to care, too much to be careful, she stepped back, unbalancing the chair, toppling as its legs slip out.
For Ben, the world slowed down.
Stupid girl.
No. She's little, little kids make mistakes.
She needs a lesson...
No! She needs help.
She'll keep making mistakes...
So?
She'll stay weak.
She'll grow up.
She'll grow into her weakness.
I don't care!
He caught her, and he didn't drop anything else. She hovered among scrolls and styli, momentarily stunned.
For a moment he wasn't sure if she'd cry or not – sometimes little kids did, when they were frightened, even if they weren't hurt. But Korrie didn't. She wasn't weak, which he already knew, she just made a mistake.
“I'm flying,” she said, amazed and impressed all over again, and though Ben knew it was is dangerous, that Luke would tell him to stop, he didn't. She was delighted, and he was entertained, and he wanted to know how far he could go.
He moved his hand, and she rose, higher and higher until her curls brushed the ceiling. Only then did he lower carefully, watching her toes find purchase against the floor before he let her go completely. He replaced their homework, the ornaments, everything, so nothing was out of place. It was a perfect exercise in control. And yet he knew his uncle would have been disappointed.
“That was so cool!” Korrie's voice was hushed with awe, but her joy rolled off her in waves. Her mind was so close, so open, that he reached out and brushed mental fingers along it. It felt like stealing, touching that pure joy, but he couldn't resist. He hadn't felt anything like that in a long time, not since he was much younger than her. Sometimes he wondered if he ever did, or if he had been born with the shadowy places inside his mind.
“We should finish our homework,” Ben said, and Korrie sighed, but settled herself back at the table obediently. She remained distracted though, eyes darting around in the hopeful expectation of seeing things start to float again. He was tempted, but he knew he shouldn't indulge her. One day, Korr Sella would be a politician, a leader and lawmaker, she had to learn patience and dedication. Just like he'd had to.
Ben stood suddenly. He didn't want to be patient and dedicated, he was tired of it. And he didn't want Korrie to be either.
“Let's go outside and play Korrie. I need to practice my katas, and you can help.”
“What are katas?”
“Fighting stances and movements. With a lightsaber.”
“You have a lightsaber?” He nodded. Luke would be furious. It was so dangerous, to play with a real blade and a child. But he felt reckless, angry on her behalf, and his own nine year old self's. Children whose childhoods were stolen by expectation.
And besides, he'd proven himself, hadn't he? He was stronger and more controlled than Luke knew, he wouldn't let anything bad happen.
When she pressed the power on the saber, and the blue blade roared into life, he did feel frightened. It was a lot of power for such a tiny frame to handle, it seemed wild in a way it didn't in his hands. If she slipped, could he reach her in time?
Ben took a knee in the grass, extending his hands for her to pass him the blade, without frightening her with his fear. “Let me show you a kata Korrie.” She handed the saber over reverently, and his fingers wrapped around the hilt, tight with relief. Luke would be right to be angry. He was being stupid, he could have got her hurt. Anger didn't suit a Jedi.
You're no Jedi...
“This is how a Jedi fights.” He told Korr, defiant, and moved through a form that felt carved into his bones.
He broke sticks from trees later, and they fought with them. Ben came out scratched and bruised, but Korr didn't have a single red mark to show for their match. He had never really understood the power of control before, but he that day he did. Play fighting with a delicate, untrained, child, took a lot of control, but protecting her from his strength made him feel stronger than he ever had before.
In the years to come, when they saw each other only rarely, in between her schooling and his training, he would still call on that memory. It was a talisman, when the voice in his head told him to abandon control entirely. It worked, for a time. Without Korrie, he would probably have turned years earlier.
But Korr Sella grew up, into his mother's creature, and he became a different monster all together. Still, that part of him that simply will not die, winces, when he feels her absence in the Force after the Hosnian system ends in a blinding light. He hadn't even realised he still held that string, not until it was cut.
She deserved her death, of course. Rebel scum. Her memory a shackle that kept him hobbled for longer than necessary.
But he remembers her dancing in the air, her delight and her joy. He remembers her as a small comfort in a lonely world. Someone who needed him, when no one else wanted him.