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She sat on the metal floor, meditating as she so often did, but her senses were alert. She heard the Exile’s approach, heard the woman pause in the doorway. “Visas?” the former jedi called softly. “You wished to see me?”
Visas stood, skirts swirling around her, and turned to face the door. “I did. I have a… confession. Something you must know.”
She could perceive the Exile’s feelings as though they were physical sensations, figures traced along her skin. Confusion. Trepidation. No blame, not yet, but that would come. “Tell me, then,” the woman urged. “I’m listening.”
Visas took a deep, shuddering breath. This was not going to be easy. In her time aboard the Ebon Hawk she had become so comfortable, complacent even. It was painful to destroy the slight happiness she’d found. “You know that my master hunts you. He sent me to kill you when you first came to his attention. He understood that you were a threat to his power.”
“You’ve told me this before, yes,” the Exile confirmed quietly.
“But there is more, more that I did not say. I do not think I realized the strength of the bond, or perhaps I did not wish to think of it. Regardless…” she shuddered. “You must know now.”
“Visas—”
“No, please, let me say it all,” Visas choked out. “My master, he can track my movements. There is a bond between us, a chain that shackles me to him, and with it he can find me anywhere. Find you.” She bowed her head. “I have been leading him to you. Not by choice, but that is of no consequence. My presence has placed your life in terrible danger. It is a betrayal, one that has a single solution.” She knelt before the Exile. “My life is forfeit. Kill me, and the bond to my master will break. Then take your ship and fly as far from this place as you can.”
There was an odd silence. Visas felt like her ears were muffled, her Force sight dimmed. She could not sense the Exile at all. It was as though the entire universe had disappeared. Then she felt soft arms wrap around her.
Her breath caught. The Exile was embracing her. Where their bodies connected, she could feel pure energy, unadulterated by rage or hate. “Oh, Visas,” the Exile murmured in her ear. “My poor Visas. There is no need for such a sacrifice.”
“But I—” Visas began to protest.
“Shh,” the Exile soothed. “Listen to me. Your master is a Sith of extraordinary power. If he can trace you, what makes you think he cannot feel my presence as well?”
“You were hidden to him for so long,” Visas insisted. “He has trouble seeing you without my aid.”
“That was before,” the Exile said calmly. “Since your arrival, my connection to the Force has deepened and strengthened a great deal. There is little chance, at this point, that he is unable to sense where I am.”
She gently stroked Visas’s back, and the Miraluka shivered slightly at her touch. It had been many years since anyone had held her without trying to hurt her, and even on Katarr she had not felt such acceptance. “I should not have kept silent,” she managed to say. Her mouth was dry, her throat tight.
The Exile drew away, and Visas immediately missed her warmth. “Why didn’t you tell me?” the woman asked her, no hint of accusation in her voice. “Take a moment and think before you answer.”
“I was not… I failed to… ” Visas swallowed hard. “It was weakness. I was afraid that if I told you, if you knew…”
“You thought I would hate you for it?”
Visas paused, then nodded slowly. “I have become… comfortable here. Around you. More so than is wise. My judgment was clouded by my desire to remain. It was selfish, reckless—”
“—Natural,” the Exile finished for her. “But there is something else. Another reason why speaking to me was too difficult to bear. Tell me. Please.”
The request was soft and mild, but it felt like a command nonetheless. Visas flinched but could not resist the pull of the Exile’s presence. “The bond that was forged between myself and my master is complex. It requires great effort to chain another Force-sensitive, to make it so that they can never escape their master’s notice or flee without discovery.”
She trailed off. Memories, sharp and terrifying, crept in on the edges of her mind. She shook her head, forcing the thoughts away before the Exile could sense them, could fully understand her reluctance to speak.
“Visas?”
The Exile’s voice was kind, as it always was when they spoke. In the weeks since her arrival, not once had the Exile interrogated her about her master or the Sith. The human had given her space and privacy, a place to recover from so much more than their duel. A sob rose up inside of her, and though she tried her best, she could not keep it in.
In an instant, she was back in the Exile’s arms. This time the embrace was tighter, almost possessive, but in a way that still comforted rather than imprisoned. “I think I understand now,” the Exile said gently. “Your scars. The injuries you suffered. The attack on your mind. All of it was to break you, to bind you to him completely.”
“And he succeeded,” Visas moaned. “I am his, and always will be. And you must rid yourself of me, before I become even more of a danger to you.”
“Listen, dear one,” the Exile murmured, her lips scant inches from Visas’s ear. “I can sense your pain, the humiliation you feel for what he did to you, the guilt that gnaws at you for not speaking out earlier. I cannot heal you, nor can I offer you forgiveness, for you have done nothing wrong.” She rested her head on Visas’s shoulder. “One thing I can promise is this: I will never harm you. No matter how much you ask, I will not raise a weapon against you. Your presence here, your existence in the universe, is a gift.” She paused, and when she spoke again there was unexpected emotion in her voice. “I beg you, Visas. Whenever you feel the shadows begin to overwhelm you, whenever the memories become too much to bear, please, come to me. You don’t have to suffer alone.”
Visas felt her mind fill with a quiet buzzing sound. As though in a trance, she reached out her arms and placed them carefully around the other woman’s waist. She felt peace, a sense of shared comfort. Her muscles relaxed, and the two women held each other close. A warmth grew in Visas’s chest as they breathed together, and even when the Exile drew away, the warmth remained. “Thank you,” the Exile said. “For telling me. For caring enough to risk being despised.” She stood and offered Visas her hand, helping the Sith to her feet. “I will be mindful of your master’s approach, and plan accordingly. In the meantime, you need not fear that I will throw you out of the airlock or abandon you on a desolate Rim planet.” She rested her hands on Visas’s shoulders. “You are safe here, or as safe as I can possibly make you. And so long as I live, I will ensure that no one hurts you that way again.”
She left, and Visas could only stand in the dormitory, stunned by all that had occurred. She had been so certain of her fate. She had never dared to hope for forgiveness. To be held with such compassion, to be comforted and soothed rather than struck down or choked, was as alien a sensation as could be. The Exile felt her pain and did not exploit it. She chose compassion over blame. Visas hardly knew how to react to such pure emotions. But she knew that she was grateful. For the first time in many years, she felt free of the guilt and shame that had weighed her down. She had been prepared to die for the Exile. Now, though, she was ready to live. To live and fight beside the woman who had taught her the meaning of forgiveness.